Yet I don’t stop, don’t tell Julian that I changed my mind… because I haven’t.Because deep inside, I know that burying my head in the sand changes nothing.My husband is a dangerous, powerful criminal, and my lack of knowledge about his activities doesn’t alter the fact that I’m dirty by association.By willingly going into his arms every night—by loving him despite everything he’s done—I am implicitly condoning his actions, and I’m not naïve enough to think otherwise.I might have started off as Julian’s victim, but I don’t know if I can claim that dubious distinction anymore.Syringe or not, I went with him knowing full well what he was and what kind of life I was signing up for.
Besides, a dark curiosity is riding me now.I want to know what he learned this morning, what kind of information his brutal methods availed him.I want to know what phone calls he’s planning to make and to whom he’s planning to speak.I want to know everything there is to know about Julian, no matter how much the reality of his life horrifies me.
When we come up to the office building, I see that the door is made of metal.Just like on the island, Julian opens it by submitting to a retina scan—a security measure that no longer surprises me.Given what I now know about the types of weapons Julian’s company produces, his paranoia appears quite justified.
We go inside, and I see that it’s all one big room, with a large oval table near the entrance and a wide desk with a bunch of computer screens at the back.Flatscreen TV monitors line the walls, and there are comfortable-looking leather chairs around the table.Everything seems very high-tech and luxurious.To me, Julian’s office looks like a cross between an executive conference room and some place I imagine the CIA might meet to strategize.
As I stand there, gaping at everything, Julian places his hands on my shoulders from behind.“Welcome to my lair,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening for a brief moment.Then he lets go of me and walks over to sit down behind the desk.
I follow him there, driven by burning curiosity.
There are six computer monitors sitting on the table.Three of them are showing what appears to be a live feed from various surveillance cameras, and two are filled with different charts and blinking numbers.The last computer is the one closest to Julian, and it’s displaying some type of unusual-looking email program.
Intrigued, I take a closer look, trying to figure out what I’m seeing.“Are you monitoring your investments?”I ask, peering at the two computers with the blinking numbers.I’m far from a stock guru, but I’ve seen a couple of movies about Wall Street, and Julian’s setup reminds me of the traders’ desks they had there.
“You could say that.”When I turn to look at him, Julian leans back in his chair and smiles at me.“One of my subsidiaries is a hedge fund of sorts.It dabbles in everything from currencies to oil, with a focus on special situations and geopolitical events.I have some very qualified people running it, but I find that stuff quite interesting and occasionally like to play with it myself.”
“Oh, I see…” I stare at him, fascinated.This is yet another side of Julian I knew nothing about before.It makes me wonder how many more layers I’m going to uncover with time.“So who are you planning to call?”I ask, remembering the phone calls he mentioned earlier.
Julian’s smile widens.“Come here, baby, have a seat,” he says, reaching out to grab my wrist.Before I know it, he’s got me sitting on his lap, his arms effectively caging me between his chest and the edge of the desk.“Just sit here and be quiet,” he whispers in my ear, and quickly types something on his keyboard while I sit there, breathing in his warm scent and feeling his hard body all around me.
I hear a few beeps, then a man’s voice comes from the computer.“Esguerra.I was wondering when you would be in touch.”The speaker has an American accent and sounds well educated, if a bit stuffy.I immediately picture a middle-aged man in a suit.A bureaucrat of some kind, but a senior one, judging from the confidence in his voice.One of Julian’s government contacts, perhaps?
“I assume our Israeli friends filled you in already,” Julian says.
Holding my breath, I listen intently, not wanting to miss anything.I don’t know why Julian decided to let me learn this way, but I’m not about to quibble.
“I don’t have much to add,” Julian continues.“As you already know, the operation was a success, and I now have a couple of detainees that I’m milking for information.”
“Yes, so we’ve heard.”There is silence for a second, then the man says, “We would appreciate hearing this kind of news first next time.It would’ve been nice if the Israelis had heard about the bus from us, rather than the other way around.”
“Oh, Frank…” Julian sighs, wrapping his arm around my waist and shifting me slightly to the left.Feeling off-balance, I clutch at Julian’s arm, trying not to make any sounds as he settles me more comfortably on his leg.“You know how these things work.If you’d like to be the one spoon-feeding the Israelis, I need a little something to sweeten the deal.”
“We already wiped away all traces of your misadventure with the girl,” Frank says evenly, and I tense, realizing he’s referring to my abduction.
A misadventure?Really?For a second, irrational fury spikes through me, but then I take a calming breath and remind myself that I don’t actually want Julian punished for what he did to me—not if it means being separated from him again.Still, it would’ve been nice if they had at least acknowledged that Julian committed a crime instead of calling it a fucking ‘misadventure.’It’s stupid, but I feel disrespected somehow—like I don’t even matter.
Oblivious to my stewing over his word choice, Frank continues, “There’s nothing more we can give you at this point—”
“Actually, you can,” Julian interrupts.Still holding me tightly, he strokes my arm in a proprietary, soothing gesture.As usual, his touch warms me from within, takes away some of my tension.He probably understands why I’m upset; no matter how you slice it, it’s insulting to have your kidnapping talked about so casually.
“How about a little tit for tat?”Julian continues softly, addressing Frank.“I let you be the heroes next time, and you let me in on some back-channel action with Syria.I’m sure there are a few tidbits you’d like to leak… and I’d love to be the one to help you out.”
There is another moment of silence, then Frank says gruffly, “Fine.Consider it done.”
“Excellent.Until next time then,” Julian says and, reaching forward, clicks on the corner of the screen to disconnect the call.
As soon as he’s done, I twist around in Julian’s arms to look at him.“Who was that man?”
“Frank is one of my contacts at the CIA,” Julian replies, confirming my earlier supposition.“A paper pusher, but one who’s quite good at his job.”
“Ah, I thought so.”Beginning to feel restless, I push at Julian’s chest, needing to get up.He releases me, watching with a faint smile as I back up a couple of steps, then prop my hip against the desk and give him a questioning look.“What was that about Israelis and the bus?And Syria?”
“According to one of my Al-Quadar guests, there is an attack planned on a tour bus in Tel-Aviv,” Julian explains, leaning back in his chair.“I notified the Mossad—the Israeli intelligence agency—about it earlier today.”
“Oh.”I frown.“So why did Frank object to that?”
“Because the Americans have a savior complex—or would like the Israelis to think they do.They want this information to be coming from them instead of me, so that the Mossad owesthema favor.”
