London Twist: A Delilah Novella by Barry Eisler

the same about you.
    They dove off the deck. The water was perfectly cool and delightful, and they spent a heavenly half hour splashing, diving, floating, and utterly unwinding from the long trip.
    When they had had enough and were toweling off on the deck, Delilah decided she should bring up the sleeping arrangements. She was surprised to feel somewhat fraught about the topic, and realized Fatima’s beauty was affecting her. Would the woman think she was coming on to her?
    The thought was strange and she shook it away. This was an op; she didn’t know what Fatima was expecting or what would make her uncomfortable; she didn’t want to blow things when they were going so well. That was all.
    “I should have thought of this earlier,” she said, “but there’s only the one bed… ”
    “I noticed that, too. It’s fine. I’ll take the couch.”
    “Oh, no! I mean, if you want, of course, but… look, it’s a big bed, and I would feel very bad to have it all to myself while you toss and turn on the couch.” Again she pushed away the concern that Fatima would think she was coming on to her. The woman would know she was just being solicitous. She was overthinking it. Which was weird. She didn’t ordinarily second-guess herself.
    “You’re really nice. But I don’t sleep that well, anyway. The bed would probably be wasted on me. And I might even keep you up.”
    “I doubt that. And if you don’t sleep well, a couch isn’t likely to help, no? Look, I’m very happy to share the bed with you, it’s no imposition at all. But I want you to be comfortable, of course. Whatever you like.”
    Fatima offered a smile Delilah couldn’t read. “Thank you,” she said. “This is already the best trip I’ve ever had. Why don’t we figure out the bed tonight?”
    Delilah returned the smile, still feeling uncertain. “Of course. Whatever you like.”
    They spent the afternoon exploring the resort, enjoying a leisurely lunch in one of the restaurants, and lounging by the pool. Conversation was so easy and comfortable, at times Delilah could almost have believed she was there on a legitimate assignment with a girlfriend tagging along. But at other moments, she was aware of the pressure of the op, the uncertainty of how she might access Fatima’s laptop. In the course of her job, she was always afraid, deep down, of being found out, of getting caught. But here, the fear was closer to the surface, and its nature felt different, as well. Ordinarily, the fear was of physical danger—of beatings, torture, death. Such thoughts seemed absurd in this paradise. If Fatima caught Delilah trying to access her laptop, Delilah would have some cover-for-action ready and that would be that. No real danger. And yet she was still afraid, of what she didn’t know.
    They both were tired and jetlagged and went to bed early. Fatima decided to take the couch, and Delilah agreed only after getting her to promise that if she was uncomfortable she would absolutely take the other half of the bed, never mind worrying about disturbing Delilah.
    The next two days were uneventful. They snorkeled; they sailed around the island and fed sharks and rays; they went parasailing. Delilah dutifully photographed the activities, capturing images of lazing sea turtles and azure waves and the various other elements of a vacation in paradise. Once, she tried to shoot Fatima in her stunning red bathing suit, but Fatima demurred, noting that the same concerns she had about appearing too fashion conscious made her reluctant to be filmed in attire that might shock certain Muslim sensibilities. Delilah told her she would give the photos to Fatima and keep no copies, but still Fatima was reluctant, which suggested either that she was nervous copies would get out anyway, or that she was shy about posing, or both. The woman was so beautiful and photogenic that Delilah really would have enjoyed shooting some glamorous shots of her, but she didn’t push the issue.
    Several