Her hair was deliciously awry, her eyes sparkling. She lifted a glass to her lips and smiled at me over the rim. ‘I hope you’ve got a nightdress i... that bag?’ I got no chance to answer. She rattled of ideas for the show, served the meal like a whirlwind and ate ravenously, talking with her mouth full and waving her fork to conduct her sentences. Food consumed she led me by the hand to her bedroom and unbuttoned my blouse. She did that thing of hers where she looks down at my breasts as if. And she had said little besides ordering me to study the mission's file. I never thought of trying to escape. I just assumed she had at least one weapon hidden somewhere in her clothing and that she probably could kill me with her bare hands.We cleared through the Jordanian-Iraqi border with ease and were on our way to a rendezvous in northern Iraq. Apparently I was posing as an Iraqi chemical weapons scientist Svetlana Al-Hassan with whom I bore some resemblance. Her mother was Iraqi while. More

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