Brussels Seduction

As their conversation wound down, the Arab increasingly turned his attention to me. He seemed to be asking questions about me and Hamilton was answering them—in French—as he, also, looked at me. I got the distinct feeling that I was being assessed and talked of in terms of a commodity. And thus when Hamilton turned to me and said, “This gentleman would like you to retire with him into the yacht’s master cabin,” I can’t claim that I was surprised.

“Is this what I’m along for? As part of the payoff for whatever he’s told you.”

“He’s giving me very useful and important information, Allen. It is very valuable intelligence for the country. Surely you knew what you were being invited on this cruise for. Now, stand and strip off those shorts so that he can see what he’s being offered. And smile nicely for the man. Please don’t embarrass us all and queer the future usefulness of Mr. Al-Fatib by making a fuss. You are to show him a good time.”

“Used like a slab of meat off a rack?”

“For the moment, here and now, yes. I know exactly what you’re capable of.”

I stuck my chin out at him, ready to retort that those photos with the satyrs were pretty basic, when he took the wind out of my sails and forced me to withdraw into myself.