The Eiger Sanction by Trevanian

don't really work for him. I'm CII, but I'm not Search and Sanction. They chose someone out of your department to avoid recognition.”
    “Very sensible. What do you do?”
    “I'm a courier. The stewardess front is good for that.”
    He nodded. “Have you had many assignments like this? Using your body to get at someone?”
    She considered, then rejected the easy lie. “A couple.”
    He was silent for a moment. Then he laughed. “Aren't we the pair? A selfish killer and a patriotic whore. We should mate just to see what the offspring would be. I have nothing against selfish whores, but patriotic killers are the worst kind.”
    “Jonathan.” She leaned forward, suddenly angry. “Do you have any idea how important this assignment Mr. Dragon wants you to take is?”
    He regarded her with bland silence; he had no intention of making anything easier.
    “I know he didn't give you the details. He couldn't unless he was sure you would take the job. But if you knew what is at stake, you would cooperate.”
    “I doubt that.”
    “I wish I could tell you. But my instructions—”
    “I understand.”
    After a pause, she said, “I tried to get out of it”
    “Oh? Did you?”
    “This afternoon, while we were lying on the beach, I realized what a rotten thing it would be to do, now that we were...”
    “Now that we were what?” He arched his eyebrows in cool curiosity.
    Her eyes winced. “Anyway, I left you and came up here to call Dragon and ask him to let me out.”
    “I assume he refused.”
    “He couldn't speak to me. He was undergoing a transfusion or something. But his man refused—whatshisname.”
    “Pope.” He finished his wine and placed the glass on a table deliberately. “It's a little hard for me to buy, you know. You've been on this thing for some time—since Montreal. And you seem convinced that I ought to take this assignment—”
    “Youmust , Jonathan!”
    “...and despite all that, you expect me to believe that one gentle afternoon has changed your mind. I can't help feeling you're making the mistake of trying to con a con.”
    “I haven't changed my mind. It's only that I didn't want to do the thing myself. And you know perfectly well that this has been more than just a gentle afternoon.”
    He looked at her, his eyes moving from one of hers to the other. Then he nodded, “Yes, it's been more than that.”
    “For me, it wasn't just this afternoon. I've spent days going over your records—which, by the way, are embarrassingly complete. I know what your boyhood was like. I know how CII roped you into your job in the first place. I know about the killing of your friend in France. And even before this assignment, I'd seen you on educational television.” She grinned. “Lecturing about art in your superior, sassy way. Oh, I was ninety percent hooked before I met you. Then, down in your room—I was really pleased when you invited me down there. I couldn't help babbling. I knew from the files that you never bring anyone there. Anyway, down in the room, with you sitting there so happy, and all those beautiful paintings, and that blue envelope with your money sitting so unprotected on your desk... I had to tell you that's all.”
    “You have anything else to say?”
    “No.”
    “You don't want to talk about shoes, or ships, or sealing wax?”
    “No.”
    “In that case,” he crossed to her and drew her out of the chair by her hands. “I'll race you up the stairs.”
    “You're on.”

    A rain-shimmered shaft of light lay across her eyes, revealing at surprising moments the harlequin flecks of gold. He lowered his forehead to hers, closed his eyes, and hummed a raspy note of satisfaction and pleasure. Then he drew back so he could see her better. “I'm going to tell you something,” he said, “and you mustn't laugh.”
    “Tell me.”
    “You have the most beautiful eyes.”
    She looked up at him with eternal feminine calm. “That's very sweet. Why should I laugh?”
    “Someday I'll tell