Tag: cia

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

ROSTOV-NA-DONU, JULY 13, 1974
The Canadian student tour group were old hands at Soviet travel by the time their plane left Leningrad bound for Rostov-na-Donu in the Ukraine. The usual plump stewardesses, more relaxed on this domestic flight, handed out the usual sticky candy. The students played the now familiar game of who had the functioning seatbelts. David had no seatbelt, and he threatened to hang on to Paul’s leg for the duration of the flight should they meet turbulence.
Despite the gloom of parting from Volodya, Jennifer’s spirits lifted slightly. The plane was full of Ukrainians returning home—women in harem pants, swarthy men with metallic, toothy grins carrying bundles, carpets and, in one case, something alive in a cage that screeched at intervals. The passengers moved around the plane freely, paying no attention to the attendant yelling at them.
Jennifer wasn’t the only one who was mourning the loss of a friend in Leningrad. Ted had ended his stay there at a party with students from the institute. He had met them on the street, and over some powerful moonshine liquor they had discoursed heavily on the problems of the cold war and had resolved to bring peace to their various countries. Unfortunately, Ted couldn’t quite recall how they had proposed achieving this lofty aim. Lona had also found some friends in Moscow, it seemed, and was only now telling the group about them. Jennifer wondered if Lona would have admitted the liaison if she had not been spotted outside the hotel with a group of sharp and eager young men whom everyone suspected of being some kind of confidence tricksters. If anyone can take care of herself, it’s Lona, thought Jennifer, and she wondered if Lona’s swains had asked her to help them leave the country. Then, in an attempt to shake off…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

incinerated bodies, and pain. Then she remembers the body of a man next to
hers and she is being violated. Her mind, suddenly feels as if it is exploding when
she realizes what had really happened.
She turns to Matthew and says, “So, you have come to enjoy necrophilia
these days, Matthew Roberts. You must be really desperate. You obviously
couldn’t wait until morning.”
He turns looking at her with a smile.
“You looked so attractive, sweetheart, I couldn’t resist.”
Suddenly the room becomes dark and an explosive anger overtakes her
whole body; her eyes darken and her heart accelerates in a frenetic rhythm as if to
break through her chest and run away, burning everything in its path.
“Of course, you couldn’t resist using your weekend whore. That’s what you
always do, five minutes for your pleasure; five minutes is always enough for you
to find your manhood at its peak. The thought of how you view lovemaking
makes me puke,” she yells.
He’s flabbergasted by her outburst; he has never seen his Emily in this state of
mind. This is not his Emily, the quiet calm person he has known all those years.
She screams from the depths of her larynx and her voice carries such disgust,
such pain, such nausea that his eyes and mouth open wide and he doesn’t know
what to do or say. Suddenly, he interrupts her.
“What is it, sweetheart? Why all this commotion?”
“Don’t sweetheart me! Don’t you ever dare sweetheart me again, Matthew
Roberts. I’ve had enough of that. I have had enough of that, do you hear me? I’m
not your sweetheart or your weekend whore, anymore!”
He ducks down as if expecting her to throw something. He has never seen her
this way. He becomes apologetic.
“What would you like me to do, Emily?”
But her anger is so fierce and unappeased that she can no longer think logically.
She yells out her frustration and pain, “When you come to the point of violating me
when I’m asleep, I don’t know what you want me to say, Matthew. You are
despicable! You make me sick! Yes, my God, how you make me sick! I don’t even
want to look at you anymore.Why the hell do I put up with your crap all the time?
For the stupid salary you earn; for the stupid agency you work for; for the stupid life
you and I lead? It makes me sick to think of all that. Yes, Matthew Roberts, it makes
me sick! You make me sick. I want you out of here. Are you listening to me? I want
you out of here, out of my life! I’m not your weekend whore, anymore. Go, go to
your stupid hotel where you spend every day of the week. You may as well spend
your weekends there. Why did you come here? For your five-minute fuck?” The
tears course down her cheeks, and she wonders why she has not revolted before?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

said Chopyk with only a hint of irony. He stroked his beard and stared at her with curiosity in his eyes. “I understand from Maria that you have a class scheduled for this morning.”
“Yes,” replied Jennifer tersely. Don’t explain, don’t apologize. Last night is none of his business. “I want to hear the students’ experiences in Leningrad. I have my own to share, too.”
“But I also know that you have been cancelling classes while in Leningrad….”
“As we discussed that first night,” she broke in quickly, starting across the lobby.
“Yes, agreed…but….” Chopyk followed, taking small, deliberate steps beside her. She matched his fussy gait. What is this nonsense all about? Surely he isn’t going to punish me?
“Since I have been carrying on with classes while in Leningrad for any who care to study,” he sniffed, “I think it only right that you should lead both groups, juniors and seniors, while on the Volga cruise.”
So that was it. Once again, he had hit her at her most guilty moment. He wanted to lounge on the sundeck reading his academic papers and not have to deal with a pack of rowdy students.
“Certainly. I’d be happy to do that,” she answered. “I know how one’s research suffers when class prep is a priority,” she added archly. He appeared not to notice her tone of voice. They entered the dining room in silence.
★
That morning she ended her class by presenting a poem that Volodya had written out for her: an excerpt from “Spring in Leningrad” by the Russian war poet, Margarita Aliger. Jennifer told the students the story of the Leningrad mother who had suffered during the siege and how her son, Volodya, had been moved by this poem. Despite her own sense of loss, Hank’s bad mood and Ted’s hangover, the students rallied and they recited it in Russian, then took a stab at translating it.
“O city without light, without water!
One hundred and twenty five grams of blockade rationed bread…
Savage rumbling of trouble
from the pitiless, dead sky.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

and then when they retire, most often they collapse from the stress of the
years they spent at work and away from home, like Matthew. What have you
been doing all your life, sweet Emily? What have you been doing for Emily? You
said the other day that you would like to get into underwater photography. How
are you going to do that being married to a man who has no time for his wife, let
alone for what his wife likes to do?”
Emily looks at him, but is at a loss for words. She knows he’s right, although
she’s afraid to admit that even to herself. The world is a scary place without
money, she knows. She also knows Matthew and Emily hardly make it on his
salary.
“It’s scary to think of being out there without the means to survive, sweet
Talal,” she utters, as if to convince herself that that is the most important thing at
this time.
“Yes, I agree. But what will you do to survive is the question, my sweet Emily.
Do you sell out what counts for the security of having money? This is a call we all
have to make.”
“That’s right, my love, do you sell out what counts?” she asks, instead of
answering his question.
He smiles brightly at her as if trying to see into her very soul and says, “No, sweet
Emily, you never sell out, no matter what. Because if you do, how can you face
yourself in themirror and say you have been true to yourself; I have been true to my
integrity, I haven’t sold out. That is what counts in life and that’s the reason I would
never sell out.”
“Perhaps you are right. But it’s different for a man than for a woman.” She
points out.
“No, my love, there is no difference. It’s only a matter of personal belief, a
matter of effort, a matter of achievement, a matter of commitment, that’s all!”
She lays her head on his shoulder and says nothing more, as if listening to the
gap between two words or two breaths, or two of her heartbeats that sound like
the song of a woman in love with this Iraqi man with the sweet voice and the sad
eyes. He’s very pleased that he has made her aware of Matthew’s work, because
he knows that, later, all this will sink in and the result is going to be exactly what
he wants. Talal sits listening to the song of the wind through the small park
where they sit, a song that unfolds slowly and methodically like a majestic eagle
spreading its wings to the heights of the sky.
They begin walking once more, holding hands and observing nature all
around them. They see the bright colors of the trees and flowers, and the shining,
splashing water of the pond where the sun’s rays reflect like crystals. They come
to a smaller pond filled with ducks making all kinds of sounds

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

same job that has bought his life out. When he sits in his office he feels like
another piece of furniture or even like the cheap print on the wall. All this for a
salary that keeps him and his family fed, but has kept him forever hungry for all
the other things in life which he has missed out on.
He has lived this life for thirty years of five days everyweek in the same office and
the same crummy hotel room. His life is like a wound up machine, well-oiled,
well-serviced to do as expected of him; a machine that uses little energy and that
produces a bit of something for the people above. Five days aweek away from home
and two days at home with Emily and his daughter Jennifer, who has grown up
without a dad and Emily, with a husband on call, with a life in pieces, in increments,
like an eyedropper giving a drop here and a drop there, enough to keep one seeing
something of life, but not enjoying a real life.
Many a time he has wished for a different job, a different life closer to his
family, but it’s too late now, too late for change. Retirement is coming soon and
he looks forward to that.
He gets ready monotonously, like a robot doing things as if wound up, like a
wound-up little man that kids play with, with his brand new batteries every day,
the same routine, every day the same sequence from getting up in the morning to
going to bed late at night. The TV, his opium, there to keep him company; the
TV close by, but his wife and daughter and everything else a human being likes to
have close, always far away.
In his office he doesn’t even say good morning to the receptionist, who has
been his smile-of-the-day kind of a person. She’s surprised when he doesn’t talk
to her on his way by. She knows something heavy sits on his heart; she has
noticed over the last few years that this man is just an automaton and the softness
of his heart—the heart she remembers from the first days she met him—is just
not there anymore. What a job can do to a person is amazing, but it isn’t her
place to ask him about it or to do anything about it. She knows that’s where his
wife comes in—when a man has something heavy in his heart. Dorothy also
knows she isn’t his wife, so she let his wife worry about it. But does his wife care
to know what sits heavily in her husband’s heart? Dorothy has never met Mrs.
Roberts.
It’s about nine o’clock, the usual time he dials the number to reach home.
“Hello there, honey,” he says, when Emily answers the phone.
“Hi Matthew. How are you, today?” A question asked for the millionth time,
and here comes the answer, repeated for the millionth time.
“I’m okay; how are things at home?”
“Everything is the same,” deep in Emily’s heart, she wishes things could be
different for a change.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

excerpt

“Sit with me here on this bench,” he said, taking her hand gently. “You asked to know about me and my family. So look around you. Except for my mother and aunt, most of my family are here. My father fought the fascists—just outside of the city. He wasn’t a brave man. He had no choice. To serve in the army was better than dying in Leningrad.”
“And your mother?”
“She survived the siege. She had no food except the ration. She didn’t get skinny though. She puffed up, she told me, her legs swollen—and her face, too—with disease.”
At that moment, Jennifer could feel a disease working through her own body in sympathy, a horrible nausea, her head heavy, her arms like lead, then only emptiness.
Volodya went on: “That first winter, 1941, she told me that many people froze to death on the streets. Those who survived were too weak to bury the others. So they just stepped over the dead on their way to stand in the food lines.”
“But she lived?”
“Somehow she lived. When the city was liberated, my father returned and nursed her back to health. He had an army ration; it was only a little more food than the usual ration. He died two years after I was born in 1947. He had been wounded in the chest. He couldn’t breathe.”
“That’s ghastly. So your mother had to raise you by herself?”
“Yes, she and her sister. But I don’t tell you for pity. This is what I want to tell you.” He stood up. “Look around here—at this memorial. All the memorials around town are built in honour of our glorious fallen comrades. So many memorials for the dead.”
Jennifer had a glimmer of understanding now. She shook off the nausea.
“A few years ago I looked at how my mother was living—how damp is her apartment, how she still stands in line for food, and I decide to write to Comrade Brezhnev. I asked him how come so many things are done for the dead and so little for the living.” Jennifer shifted uneasily. “Soon two special men came to my mother’s door. You know what this means, special men?”
“KGB,” she whispered.
“Yes, they question my mother. What is her son doing? Does he make trouble? The neighbours see these men come to the apartment.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

She’s proud of her body and doesn’t hesitate to show it off. She takes
her seat and orders a glass of red wine, as well.
When seated and relaxed, she looks at Emily. Suddenly, she brings her hand
to her mouth and says, “Oh, my God, what is it? Tell me it isn’t—Emily, what’s
going on?”
Emily leans a bit closer.
“What is it? I’m just a happy woman. That’s all.”
“Who is he? Tell me, I know there’s someone. Just tell me who he is!”
Emily laughs at her, and admits, “Yes, there is someone. I’m crazy, Cathy! I’m
crazy to feel this way at my age. I’m crazy, you can say that!”
“Oh no, love, I don’t think you’re crazy at all. Just take a deep breath, and tell
me all about it.”
Emily sips her wine and talks slowly, as if afraid of people in the restaurant
hearing her talk, or as if she is afraid Matthew will hear from where he is. She’s
almost whispering and Cathy has to lean in close to understand her.
At one point, Cathy interrupts her and says, “My dear Emily, I have been
wondering for a long time when this moment would come. You know, with Matt
always so busy working and out of town. I’m proud of you. Life is for everyone,
you know? We all deserve a share in the sun. The question, of course, is when are
you going to tell Matt? Oh yes, one more question. You lucky girl, a
thirty-something-year-old? Is that Talal’s age?”
Emily laughs again and they both sip their wine. They have ordered salads
and when the waiter serves them they begin eating with relish. As they eat, Cathy
asks, “I suppose no one knows so far? Does Jennifer know?”
“No, no one knows other than you. You must keep it from Bob. I don’t really
know which way things are going to go or which direction I’m going to take right
now.”
Cathy leans closer to her, “There is only oneway to go in things like this, darling,
and that is the way of the heart. Don’t let fear lead you to failure; don’t fail me and
don’t fail yourself. Unless you want to regret it later. One fine day, you’ll wake up
with tears in your eyes and ask the terrible question in front of the mirror.”
“What do you mean? What question?”
“The question that says, ‘how stupid was I not to take the chance when I had
it?’ That’s the question, darling. You see, by that time it’s too darn late, even to
cry about it.”
Emily looks at her and admits Cathy has a good point. Deep in her heart, she
already knows what she wants to do, yet the fear is there, staring at her with a
sardonic smile. Thinking about it makes her spine squirm. How is she going to
find the courage to do what she wants?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Jazz with Ella

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

He didn’t seem to have much family left except his grandmother in California and Jennifer felt as if she had been cast out of her own. They sat in the campus centre’s uncomfortable chairs, too hard for sleeping, just soft enough for flopping, smoked cigarettes—even though neither were smokers—and talked far into the night. At first she thought she wanted to sleep with him and made a few subtle overtures.
Jennifer had lost her virginity during the first year of college to a fraternity man who pressed his attentions on her in the back row of the movie theatre. From there, a succession of eager males had dated her but only a few had captured her interest. She didn’t believe in saving it for her husband, but she wanted respect from her partner. She wanted to find the right one—someone to love when lovemaking would be a passionate, full experience.
Paul was good-looking, tall, grey-eyed, with pronounced cheekbones, and as they wandered the campus together, she found herself wondering how he would look naked, whether he would be a good lover. But when she invited him back to her shared apartment for a nightcap, he told her about his girlfriend in Vancouver, a chemistry major who sounded as exciting as two planks of wood. Jennifer backed off. In his polite, contained style, he offered her nothing but a companionship that she would soon learn to treasure. At the end of the summer they kissed on the lips, promised to write to one another and he suggested that she apply for graduate work at his university where they could be colleagues. This parting tenderness made her feel warmer than the parting kiss of her many dates. Paul was special, no doubt about it. But he wasn’t the one.
The summer had scarcely faded into autumn before she met Michael. She had noticed him in the line-up at the cafeteria; he always ate at about the same time each day, moved his tray through the line efficiently, then always sat in the same spot, a table by the door. One day when the cafeteria was full, she thought what the hell and asked if the seat opposite him was taken. Politely, he gathered up his sprawling papers and books and indicated the seat. Then he returned to reading. She studied him. His most obvious feature was bushy black eyebrows. His thick full hair dropped to his shoulders in the current style. He was wearing a white cotton shirt with embroidery and she could see his well-proportioned body through the material.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

HAKIM ISONHISWAY to the Sheraton Hotel to meet his uncle so they can go
together to the medical center. He’s worried about what they will find out, but he
doesn’t want this to show. He wants to be courageous and strong for his uncle.
They arrive by limousine and a specialist meets them in a consultation room.
He confirms what’s already known about the tumor in Ibrahim’s liver. He
indicates it’s a very small-sized malignancy. At this stage, it’s unclear what type of
cancer it is, but he confirms that the tumor is a new type they don’t know very
much about. Therefore, it would be inappropriate for him to tell Ibrahim with any
certainty that it will respond positively to the new chemotherapy. For that reason,
he’ll start Ibrahim on a light dose. The specialist has arranged for Ibrahim to be
admitted to a private clinic where the medication is to be administered, and he’ll
be monitored twenty-four hours a day.
The specialist stops briefly, but continues to look at Ibrahim and Hakim to
ensure that, so far, everything is understood. Then he carries on.
“If we see that the drug doesn’t produce any adverse effects, the second dose,
and the third and fourth, can be given orally in the form of a pill that you can take
on your own, in the comfort of your own home. However, the first time the drug
is administered, we would like to monitor you very closely at the clinic. I’ll leave
you alone for a few minutes to absorb what I’ve told you. Then I’ll return with
further instructions.”
He gets up and the other two follow him out of the consultation room.
Hakim turns and gazes him. Ibrahim is pale and shaken. This is the first time
Hakim sees his uncle with fear in his eyes. The pride and gracefulness that he
possessed are gone. A layer of fear has taken over like a black shroud covering the
old man’s eyes.
“I wouldn’t worry they do miracles with medicine these days.” Hakim says
trying to relieve his uncle’s gloom.
“I guess so,” his uncle nods in agreement. “But, it means I cannot go home yet.”
“When were you planning to go home?”
“As soon as I’m done with these guys dear boy; Mara is most anxious for me
to get home; however, now she has to wait for a few more days.”
“You have to be here for only one or two more days so they can see …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

The Circle

On By vequinoxIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Excerpt

Thursday morning Los Angeles opens her eyes, staring at the sun rising steadily
on the eastern horizon, gifting the city with warmth and joy. Even the homeless
smile this morning knowing it will be easier to locate food in the restaurant garbage
bin or the neighborhood pub garbage; there’s always something edible
there. The smog overarches the city touching the taller buildings, sitting lazily on
top of the high-rises. Rush hour is beginning and traffic increases with bottlenecks
in main arteries. One can hear the morning sounds of the commercial,
business center as people slowly reach to their destinations, stores open their
doors and customers rush in.
Ibrahim Hazim Mahdi sips his morning coffee and reads the latest news. He’s
pleased with the way his day went yesterday; he felt pride with Hakim next to
him all along. Sometimes, he remembers having asked Allah why he wasn’t
gifted with a son of his own, yet that was years ago. These days he takes what
comes his way as a gift from the Almighty because he knows the days of each are
counted first by Him and next by His people.
Ibrahim knows deep in his heart that Hakim is going to do just fine with the
money that he’s leaving for him. He also knows that Hakim will take good care of
his Auntie Mara, as long as Allah choses to keep her in this world. Despite all
these positive thoughts there still lingers an unexplained anxiety which has taken
hold of his mind and makes his heart ache; yet he cannot find the reason for it.
He wonders why he feels this now, after has taken care of everything.
The phone rings and he answers to a girl’s voice.
“Good morning, I’m calling from the medical center. Mr. Mahdi, please.”
“This is Ibrahim Mahdi.”
“Sir, I need to arrange an appointment for you with the specialist who
examined you. He has the results from your tests. What would be the best time
for you later today?”
“Any time is fine, young lady.”
“Alright then, is one in the afternoon okay?”
“Yes, that will be fine; I’ll be there at one.”

It’s early evening in Baghdad, and Ibrahim decides to call Mara. He dials his
number at home. The maid gets the phone and calls his wife.
“Hello,” he says, “how are you? I haven’t talked to you for two days.”
He hears Mara weeping on the other end and asks, “Why are you crying, my
beloved? I’ll be home in a couple of days. Is everything alright?”
“Yes, everything is alright,” she manages to say while sobbing. “Are you really
on your way home soon?” She doubts him.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524