extra skirt. The other things—underwear, stockings, the cleaning kit for her handguns and her rifle, the whetstone for her knife—she had placed in the drawers of one of the two lovely dressers in the bedroom.
Anothermessenger had arrived, asking if she would honor the Chairman by accepting a small and unworthy gift. She had smiled and said yes. Women had returned a few moments later with their arms loaded with clothing. She had seen things like these—in the videotapes her father had stored at the Retreat, in picture books as a little girl, and to a degree among the few very pretty things Natalia had brought with her to the Retreat.
Thewoman in charge of the other women had told her to select however many or few items she wished. Annie had been unable to comprehend so many things because all of her adult life, with the exception of the time spent in Iceland, she had made all her own clothing. And the habit remained. In Iceland, she had begun making her own clothing again.
Shehad settled on six very pretty dresses, reasoning that to have taken less would have been rude and that
therewould never be any hope of taking more with her.
Shestood in front of the full-length mirror now, studying herself. She had never seen herself look so—so—so sophisticated, she decided. It was a chong-san, if she remembered the right word. Of green silk—at least it felt like silk—it was sleeveless, high-necked, and came to the middle of her calves, but there was a deep slit up the side, halfway to her left thigh. And the stockings she wore, they were also silk. So was the underwear. Natalia had silk underwear, the only time Annie had ever seen silk.
Shehad arranged her hair atop her head, held in place with two things that looked like thin spikes and had large gemstones at one end and were very pretty. The stones were also green.
Shewore no jewelry other than her wedding ring and her watch. She took off the watch, too mannish. She would never take Paul’s ring from her finger.
AnnieRourke Rubenstein heard the knock at her door. “Just a minute!” she called out. The one problem with the dress was that there was no place to hide a gun. She had never gotten used to the idea of a purse, never owned one in her adult life. “Shit,” she said under her breath. The gunbelt, aside from being bad manners, would look terrible with the green silk dress.
Anniesat down on the edge of the bed. If they wanted to kill her, they could have killed her while she slept. Or they could poison her at breakfast.
Shestood up, opened one of the dresser drawers, and put her gunbelt and the leg sheath for the Tanto inside and closed it. Her father would be angry with her for going unarmed. She closed her eyes. There had been another dream. Her father was calm, she knew. And Natalia was struggling. She had tried contacting Paul. Michael. There was no way to contact them, their radios turned off, she had been told.
Anniestood up and walked to the door, sniffed, made a smile on her face—the lipstick tasted funny—and opened the door.
Itwas the Chairman himself. She had seen him from a
distanceshortly after she had arrived.
“IfI may speak with such boldness, you are very beautiful, Mrs. Rubenstein.”
“Andyou are very flattering.” She smiled. “There has been no word from my husband or my brother?”
“Onecan only assume, Mrs. Rubenstein, that all goes well in their attempt to penetrate the encampment of the Soviet leader and resolve this perplexing situation concerning the whereabouts of your father and the Russian woman who is his companion.”
“Onecan only assume, sir.”
“Andnow—please join me. It is a rare thing for me to breakfast with a woman so beautiful.” He stepped back from the door and Annie stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind her. She had already made up her mind. If there was no news by midday, she would go after Paul and Michael herself. She could not take another dream.
Chapter Twelve
“Howwere
Anothermessenger had arrived, asking if she would honor the Chairman by accepting a small and unworthy gift. She had smiled and said yes. Women had returned a few moments later with their arms loaded with clothing. She had seen things like these—in the videotapes her father had stored at the Retreat, in picture books as a little girl, and to a degree among the few very pretty things Natalia had brought with her to the Retreat.
Thewoman in charge of the other women had told her to select however many or few items she wished. Annie had been unable to comprehend so many things because all of her adult life, with the exception of the time spent in Iceland, she had made all her own clothing. And the habit remained. In Iceland, she had begun making her own clothing again.
Shehad settled on six very pretty dresses, reasoning that to have taken less would have been rude and that
therewould never be any hope of taking more with her.
Shestood in front of the full-length mirror now, studying herself. She had never seen herself look so—so—so sophisticated, she decided. It was a chong-san, if she remembered the right word. Of green silk—at least it felt like silk—it was sleeveless, high-necked, and came to the middle of her calves, but there was a deep slit up the side, halfway to her left thigh. And the stockings she wore, they were also silk. So was the underwear. Natalia had silk underwear, the only time Annie had ever seen silk.
Shehad arranged her hair atop her head, held in place with two things that looked like thin spikes and had large gemstones at one end and were very pretty. The stones were also green.
Shewore no jewelry other than her wedding ring and her watch. She took off the watch, too mannish. She would never take Paul’s ring from her finger.
AnnieRourke Rubenstein heard the knock at her door. “Just a minute!” she called out. The one problem with the dress was that there was no place to hide a gun. She had never gotten used to the idea of a purse, never owned one in her adult life. “Shit,” she said under her breath. The gunbelt, aside from being bad manners, would look terrible with the green silk dress.
Anniesat down on the edge of the bed. If they wanted to kill her, they could have killed her while she slept. Or they could poison her at breakfast.
Shestood up, opened one of the dresser drawers, and put her gunbelt and the leg sheath for the Tanto inside and closed it. Her father would be angry with her for going unarmed. She closed her eyes. There had been another dream. Her father was calm, she knew. And Natalia was struggling. She had tried contacting Paul. Michael. There was no way to contact them, their radios turned off, she had been told.
Anniestood up and walked to the door, sniffed, made a smile on her face—the lipstick tasted funny—and opened the door.
Itwas the Chairman himself. She had seen him from a
distanceshortly after she had arrived.
“IfI may speak with such boldness, you are very beautiful, Mrs. Rubenstein.”
“Andyou are very flattering.” She smiled. “There has been no word from my husband or my brother?”
“Onecan only assume, Mrs. Rubenstein, that all goes well in their attempt to penetrate the encampment of the Soviet leader and resolve this perplexing situation concerning the whereabouts of your father and the Russian woman who is his companion.”
“Onecan only assume, sir.”
“Andnow—please join me. It is a rare thing for me to breakfast with a woman so beautiful.” He stepped back from the door and Annie stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind her. She had already made up her mind. If there was no news by midday, she would go after Paul and Michael herself. She could not take another dream.
Chapter Twelve
“Howwere
Similar Books
The Evil That Men Do: FBI Profiler Roy Hazelwood's Journey Into the Minds of Sexual Predators
Stephen G. Michaud, Roy Hazelwood
