sweetie. That's all. Just be careful. The world isn't as nice as you are."
"I know what I'm doing, Roger. You underestimate me. I know where the lines are. It's you who has the problems. You're the one who practically got his leg shot off, not me. You're the one who needs to be careful."
Ferris took her hand again and whispered in her ear, "I want to hold you, but I can't here. Let's go back to your place." She smiled and rose from the little table. Something had changed.
T HEY DROVE back past the old Roman ruins and the gold souk, and up the hill a few blocks to Alice's building. Something told Ferris not to press his luck that night, but he didn't want to let her go. As he walked her to the door, he asked if he could come up.
"Not this time, but maybe another time," she said. "Tonight was special. I haven't been this way with anyone for a long while. I just want to be sure I'm ready."
"I really like you," said Ferris. He wanted to say "love" but he knew that would sound crazy. He had only known her a few weeks.
"I like you, too, Roger. I'm glad you came with me to the camp tonight. Now you know who I am. A little."
They moved into the shadow of her doorway, away from the light of the street. He kissed her on the lips and she responded, her lips parting slightly, and then wider. He took her in his arms and felt her body against his. As he kissed her, he could feel her moving, softening.
"I want you," she said. Her voice was low and suffused with desire.
"You can have me."
"Not yet." She stepped back so she could look at him. "You're strong, but I think you're soft, too, in this place." She patted his heart. "Are you? Do you have a soft heart?" He wasn't sure how to answer that, so he just nodded. She kissed him on the cheek, her lips lingering on his skin, and then turned her back and walked up the stairs. He was standing there, looking up at her apartment, when he saw the light go on and a face in the window. He walked away in a kind of daze. It was partly the rush of emotion that he felt for her, but he was disoriented by what she had said. It had never occurred to him that he had a soft heart. He wondered if she was right.
8
AMMAN
E D H OFFMAN ARRIVED IN J ORDAN a few days later. He was the Big American--big hands; big chest; big, ruddy face with the short bristle of hair on top. He was wearing sunglasses, which gave him the look of a Las Vegas tycoon--the sort of man who peels off cash from a wad of hundred-dollar bills. He arrived on a white Gulfstream jet whose only marking was the tail number. Ferris met him at the military airport, but Hoffman told him to go back to the office. The division chief went to his hotel to get some sleep, then to his favorite kebab restaurant. He finally arrived at the embassy in the early evening and immediately summoned Ferris to the secure conference room. He was waiting at the table, massaging his temples, when Ferris entered the room.
"My head hurts," said Hoffman. "I should remember never to drink the red wine at that restaurant."
Ferris extended his hand. Hoffman embraced him in a bear hug. "How's the leg?" he asked.
"Pretty good. They have me doing exercises. I'm fine. I just feel bad for the guys left in Baghdad."
"Well, don't. They couldn't begin to develop the rapport you've got with Hani. This Berlin thing is a big deal. You handled it just right."
"Thanks, but I didn't do anything except watch. It's Hani's baby."
"Hats off to Hani. Definitely." Hoffman pulled a foil package of peanuts from his pocket and popped a handful into his mouth. "But now it's our turn. I want to run it."
"You've got a problem, then. Hani wants to keep control. He wouldn't even give me a transcript of the debriefing. He says it's his operation, and we can share the take. That's it."
"I know, I know." Hoffman ate more peanuts. "And that's fine, because we don't really have to run it. We just have to manipulate it a little. That's why I'm here."
"I don't follow you." That was the
"I know what I'm doing, Roger. You underestimate me. I know where the lines are. It's you who has the problems. You're the one who practically got his leg shot off, not me. You're the one who needs to be careful."
Ferris took her hand again and whispered in her ear, "I want to hold you, but I can't here. Let's go back to your place." She smiled and rose from the little table. Something had changed.
T HEY DROVE back past the old Roman ruins and the gold souk, and up the hill a few blocks to Alice's building. Something told Ferris not to press his luck that night, but he didn't want to let her go. As he walked her to the door, he asked if he could come up.
"Not this time, but maybe another time," she said. "Tonight was special. I haven't been this way with anyone for a long while. I just want to be sure I'm ready."
"I really like you," said Ferris. He wanted to say "love" but he knew that would sound crazy. He had only known her a few weeks.
"I like you, too, Roger. I'm glad you came with me to the camp tonight. Now you know who I am. A little."
They moved into the shadow of her doorway, away from the light of the street. He kissed her on the lips and she responded, her lips parting slightly, and then wider. He took her in his arms and felt her body against his. As he kissed her, he could feel her moving, softening.
"I want you," she said. Her voice was low and suffused with desire.
"You can have me."
"Not yet." She stepped back so she could look at him. "You're strong, but I think you're soft, too, in this place." She patted his heart. "Are you? Do you have a soft heart?" He wasn't sure how to answer that, so he just nodded. She kissed him on the cheek, her lips lingering on his skin, and then turned her back and walked up the stairs. He was standing there, looking up at her apartment, when he saw the light go on and a face in the window. He walked away in a kind of daze. It was partly the rush of emotion that he felt for her, but he was disoriented by what she had said. It had never occurred to him that he had a soft heart. He wondered if she was right.
8
AMMAN
E D H OFFMAN ARRIVED IN J ORDAN a few days later. He was the Big American--big hands; big chest; big, ruddy face with the short bristle of hair on top. He was wearing sunglasses, which gave him the look of a Las Vegas tycoon--the sort of man who peels off cash from a wad of hundred-dollar bills. He arrived on a white Gulfstream jet whose only marking was the tail number. Ferris met him at the military airport, but Hoffman told him to go back to the office. The division chief went to his hotel to get some sleep, then to his favorite kebab restaurant. He finally arrived at the embassy in the early evening and immediately summoned Ferris to the secure conference room. He was waiting at the table, massaging his temples, when Ferris entered the room.
"My head hurts," said Hoffman. "I should remember never to drink the red wine at that restaurant."
Ferris extended his hand. Hoffman embraced him in a bear hug. "How's the leg?" he asked.
"Pretty good. They have me doing exercises. I'm fine. I just feel bad for the guys left in Baghdad."
"Well, don't. They couldn't begin to develop the rapport you've got with Hani. This Berlin thing is a big deal. You handled it just right."
"Thanks, but I didn't do anything except watch. It's Hani's baby."
"Hats off to Hani. Definitely." Hoffman pulled a foil package of peanuts from his pocket and popped a handful into his mouth. "But now it's our turn. I want to run it."
"You've got a problem, then. Hani wants to keep control. He wouldn't even give me a transcript of the debriefing. He says it's his operation, and we can share the take. That's it."
"I know, I know." Hoffman ate more peanuts. "And that's fine, because we don't really have to run it. We just have to manipulate it a little. That's why I'm here."
"I don't follow you." That was the
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