Obsession (Year of Fire) (79 page)

“I’m sorry. Last night I waited up very late. And when you got back, you smelled of that perfume. It made me feel awful. I had been so excited, waiting for you to get home.”

“Yes? Very excited?”

“Yes. I stayed up reading until very late trying to kill time.”

Al-Saud didn’t seem to be paying her much attention, busy as he was running his tongue down her neck and massaging her bottom.

“You waited up late for me?”

“Yes.” Matilde’s answer came out squeaky, like a whistle.

“Why were you waiting for me?”

She took a few seconds to answer. Eliah’s hands, which had slipped under her shirt and were undoing her bra, had made her mind go blank.

“Because I was thinking all afternoon about making love to you.”

Al-Saud buried his fingers in Matilde’s buttocks and rubbed his erection against her.

“Ah, my love,” he said, his voice heavy and hoarse. “You don’t know how desperate I was to start having sex again. I didn’t want to pressure you last night. Since the attack at the chapel…”

“Yes, I know. But I want to now, Eliah. I need you inside me, on top of me.”

“My love!” he exclaimed, and dragged her to the bed.

The payment for services rendered to the Dutch insurance companies arrived at Mercure’s bank account on Thursday, as did the down payment from the Israeli businessman Shaul Zeevi to start the preparations for the coltan mission in the Congo. The president of the Metropolitan seemed interested in forming an ad hoc partnership with Mercure Inc. for high-risk investigations, and wanted to sign a contract to make Al-Saud their consultant. They were impressed with the strategy he had come up with to bring the Israelis to their knees. The government of Eritrea had duly transferred the first payment for the organization and training of its army. Dingo and Axel, who had returned to that job after finishing with Lars Meijer, were working to convince the Eritrean generals that it would be a mistake to do away with their services in the short term; moreover, they were trying to persuade them to create an elite force. They would charge a juicy commission to advise them on buying weapons and vehicles. The income from the monthly contracts (guard details, investigations and industrial security) flowed in monthly and was growing, as if the security failure during the convention on the two-nation state had never existed. Mercure Inc. was experiencing an excellent period of liquidity, although it never seemed enough, given the fixed costs and the prices of the capital assets acquired the year before.

In spite of the health of his business and Matilde’s apparent happiness, as they took Juana to Charles de Gaulle airport on Friday morning, Al-Saud couldn’t seem to shake off the annoyance provoked by Lars Meijer’s phone call. The Israelis hadn’t wasted any time. On Wednesday morning, the lawyer’s office Van Boar & Becke, one of the most prestigious in Amsterdam, consultants to the government of Israel, sued the
NRC Handelsblad
for libel and slander. The lawyers at the Dutch newspaper
were quick to find out about the strategy of Van Boar & Becke, who claimed that the published photographs were false; they were forgeries.

“You didn’t make sure that the photos were authentic?” screamed the editor in chief at the
NRC Handelsblad
, slamming his fist into his desk.

“There wasn’t time,” Lars Meijer protested. “My informant threatened to hand the material over to
The Sun
if our newspaper didn’t publish it immediately.”

“They used us! I’m sure! I can smell it. I haven’t spent thirty years in this office not to know when I’ve been caught in a trap. The son of a bitch who gave you the photos was plotting to get something out of the Israelis. Who knows what!”

“But—”

“Now that’s he surely gotten it, he told them his little secret: that the photos are false.”

“I don’t understand anything!” Meijer said in agitation. “If the photos are false, if they weren’t real, why did the Israelis take so long to react? They must have known better than anyone that these photos aren’t from the laboratories at the Institute of Biological Research. And yet…”

“Aren’t you listening to me, Meijer? It’s a plot. We’ll never know what was going on behind the scenes. The only thing we know for sure is what the expert told you, that they’re forged. They’ll come after us with everything they have. They’re going to bring us down! My head will roll. And yours too, Meijer!”

Lars Meijer went back to his office and, without thinking about what he would say, called Mercure. The polite but unmovable Thérèse picked up and, to his surprise, agreed to connect him with Al-Saud. He seemed calm and unaware of the gathering storm.

“What are you talking about, Meijer?”

“You conned me, Al-Saud. The photos are forged and the Israeli government knows it. A lawsuit has just been filed against the
NRC Handelsblad
. Now I understand the rush to publish the article and your threat to hand the material over to your friend at
The Sun
. You didn’t want me to have time to check the material that you had so
generously
given me.”

“Hold on a second. What do you mean the photos were forged? I paid a lot of money for them!”

“You paid a lot of money for them without having an expert check them? You expect me to believe that? You don’t trust your own shadow. Stop screwing me around, Al-Saud! I know very well that you used me and that I’m going to lose my job, but I’ll get my revenge. Don’t think you’ll get out of this unscathed.”

As she excitedly explained to Matilde the next day on the phone, Juana hadn’t flown to Tel Aviv in business class on El Al, but first class. Shiloah Moses had paid for a ticket that cost around eight thousand dollars so that she would be completely pampered, and Juana felt like a queen. In the beginning the excitement of traveling to an exotic region and the luxuries of first class dazzled her so much that she forgot that she was going to reunite with a lover whom she hadn’t expected to see again. Shiloah hadn’t just called her almost every day, in spite of how hard he was working on his political campaign, but he had also wanted her near him for his week of vacation. Seated in the comfortable seat, with a glass of champagne in her hand as she picked at the dried fruit in a stew, Juana suddenly realized how lightly she was taking this. At the end of the four-hour journey, she would see him again. How would she feel? It hadn’t been love at first sight with them; she had even had a few drinks the night she ended up in his room at the George V. Suddenly the magic disappeared, and Juana realized that it might end up being a big disappointment. She thought about Jorge, about how much she had loved him, the excellent sex they had had, and missed him. Now the champagne tasted bitter and she lost her appetite. Shiloah had seduced her because he made her laugh. Brimming with energy and with a razor-sharp sense of humor, he had made her feel comfortable, he had made her happy again. What would happen over an entire week living together alone? She shuddered at the possibility of disappointment.

She didn’t want him to pick her up from the Ben Gurion Airport, she wanted him to send one of his assistants. She needed time to settle her thoughts. Shiloah disappointed her in that regard. He was there, waiting for her. Juana, struggling with the wheels of her suitcase, looked up to see him a few feet from her. His smile made her stomach
flutter. She stared at him, or actually, studied him. He had lost weight and seemed taller. His shorter hair suited him, as did the blue turtleneck and the butter-colored pants. In the end she thought he looked pretty handsome. Spontaneous desire welled up within her, something she hadn’t felt for him before. She dropped her suitcase and ran into his arms. Shiloah, laughing, spun her around in the air. They kissed on the mouth, ignoring the disapproving looks being thrown by the Orthodox Jews around them.

“God, I missed you!” Moses sighed into Juana’s lips.

“Thank you for inviting me! The flight was magnificent. I never thought that I would ever get to fly first class!”

Her statement made Shiloah giggle. He squeezed his body against her and inhaled her scent. They pulled apart to look at each other once more. Juana admired his amber eyes, and was surprised by the beauty of his curved black eyelashes. She fixed her gaze on his mouth, shining with saliva, and yearned to kiss him again.

“I want you so much,” he confessed.

This man was another Shiloah, less playful and more sensual. Juana smiled happily and stood on tiptoe to whisper to him, “So what are we waiting for? Let’s go make love.”

On the way back from Charles de Gaulle airport, Al-Saud tried to forget the phone conversation with Lars Meijer. He had known from the beginning that there would be collateral damage in the struggle with Israel. Why was he being assaulted by guilt? This was the nature of the business he was so passionate about; there were risks, victims and dangers. In this context, a guilty conscience wasn’t just an anachronism, it was unforgivable. He braked at a traffic light and turned his head to look at Matilde, who was sitting so serenely and placidly next to him. He was suddenly moved by her purity. She had the frank, clear gaze of the kindhearted. Sometimes when he saw her enveloped in this halo of gentility, he would think that he didn’t deserve her, and an anxious sensation racked his spirit, forming a ball in the pit of his stomach. How would she react when he confessed what he did? He had asked himself this question
many times, without getting an answer. He genuinely lacked the courage to confess it to her.

He reached out his hand and tipped up her chin to make her look at him.
Why aren’t you looking at me? What is there outside that attracts you so much? Why am I not always the center of your attention?
He was disconcerted by his jealousy, his feeling of ownership over her and the obsessive love that she inspired in him. He detested this permanent sense of unease, the need to win her affection over and over again. He was so happy when she kissed him spontaneously, or when she said that she was anxious to make love to him. And yet that happiness ended up upsetting his vanity, which Takumi sensei said was wildly excessive, as could be expected from a Horse of Fire. It also wounded him because he didn’t see himself as someone who would beg for affection—rather, he was supposed to be annoyed by too much of it. He was tired of the same old argument! He was like a broken record. And an idiot for not resolving the situation.

“
Embrasse-moi, Matilde
,” he asked her, and she took off her seat belt to placate and kiss him.

Al-Saud stayed in his seat with his hands on the steering wheel. Matilde wove her long surgeon’s fingers through his hair until she got to the back of his head and drew him to her mouth. Al-Saud’s passive reaction provoked her, and she became determined to break him down. She sucked his lips and stuck her tongue inside, but his teeth wouldn’t separate. She licked them, enjoying the smoothness of the enamel, and explored the hilly ground of his gums with the hardened tip of her tongue. The intimacy they shared seemed unreal to her. She knew his body like no one else’s, and he was the master of hers. In the back of her mind she was thinking that she would never again feel the ecstasy that Eliah Al-Saud had taught her to enjoy because, in truth, it was all down to him. Without him, the technique, mechanics and physiology were worth nothing. He turned her body on as if he knew all her secret buttons.

Inhaling violently, Al-Saud opened his mouth and pushed his tongue into Matilde’s, making her tremble and moan weakly, almost breathless. Cars started honking at them when they didn’t pull away. Al-Saud wrenched at the wheel, making the brakes squeal, and pulled the Aston Martin off to the side. He took off his seat belt and continued to her.

“Tomorrow is your birthday and I’m not going to share you with anyone. I’m going to hide you so you’ll be just for me.”

“Hide me in your estate in Rouen.”

“No, my siblings would come to wish you a happy birthday. I’m going to take you somewhere else.”

Matilde came back from the institute and finished packing her change of clothes and the other things she would need. Leila helped her with Eliah’s clothes and, at eight at night, she sat down to wait on a high stool next to the island in the kitchen, with her bag and suitcase at her feet. Yasmín arrived and sat down next to her. Matilde was amused by the girl’s clumsy attempts to find something out about Sándor. Leila had taken refuge in silence, but Matilde took pity on her and reported that he had moved back to his apartment the previous Friday.

“But he hasn’t fully recovered!”

Leila let out a snort and left the kitchen.

“I think Leila blames you for her brother leaving,” she said.

“We argued last Friday.” She was taken by surprise by how easily she was able to express her pain. She had been carrying it around with her for a week; it had even taken physical form as a pain in her chest that only disappeared when she was asleep. It overwhelmed her and she was anxious to share it with someone. “We said terrible things to each other, him especially. I’m not saying that I didn’t deserve it, but it hurt me so much.” She squeezed her eyes shut to stop herself from crying. When she felt Matilde hugging her, she crumpled onto the counter and burst into tears like a little girl.

“Shhh. Don’t cry, your brother’s coming and he’ll want to know why. Come on, sit up.” Matilde helped her upright and dried her tears with a paper towel. “We’re going on a trip now, but would you like to have lunch on Monday so we can chat about Sándor?”

“Matilde, now I understand why my brother is so crazy about you. I want you to know that I’ve never seen him so much in love. Where are you going on your trip?”

“It’s a secret,” Al-Saud said as he stepped into the kitchen. He went over to Matilde and kissed her on the mouth. Then he deposited a kiss
on his sister’s cheek. “Are you ready?” Matilde nodded. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”

“Where are you going?” Yasmín whispered.

“I have no idea. Tomorrow is my birthday and he wants to spend it somewhere secret. So I’ll see you on Monday at midday?”

“Yes, I would love that. I’ll pick you up here at twelve thirty?”