The Kurdish Affair (A David Blaine Story)

The continuation of Exit the Pawn

By Atonia Walpole

Chapter 1

She watched him walk across the tarmac, elegant as always in pearl gray slacks and a sea green shirt. She’d know that distinctive walk anywhere, not quite a limp but a little hesitant…gained from his long battles with his back injury. He shouldered his bag and adjusted his sunglasses and a smile spread across his face. He’d spotted her standing in the grass along the private runway.

He had to pass through the gate, through the little customs office. She made her way inside to wait for him. Three months is a long time to wait for the man you love, the man you simply cannot get enough of. It wasn’t supposed to be love. A casual relationship. She kept her deepest feelings hidden from him, not wanting to complicate an already complicated relationship. He came to her with need. A need to be loved and filled and she never failed to provide exactly what he was looking for.

She’d asked him to bring his children but there was always an excuse and she came to realize this was his time with her and he didn’t want to share it with anyone.  Her friend, Lara, told her David and Billy were back together. She didn’t understand at first until it was explained to her.  So it was true. It changed nothing with her.  He was hers alone when he was with her.

She still accepted dinner invitations or some other form of entertainment from gentlemen she had known for a long time. But it was Blaine who claimed her desire.

Finally officially in France, he went into her arms for a hug and a soft sexy kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

“It has been too long.” He walked with an arm around her waist to her car.

On the top floor of her quirky little house was her bedroom and neither of them hesitated going up the stairs. He unbuttoned her blouse and cupped her breasts in his hands, running his thumbs over the flimsy lace of her bra; her nipples came to attention. He loved what his touch could do, loved to watch her reaction as he touched her, the way her lips slightly parted when he probed her with his fingers, the little sounds she made. And knowing he could satisfy her…knowing what she wanted of him. Knowing just how long he would torture her before taking her completely.

It was always this way. She was intoxicated with him…there was nothing else…nothing else but the man deep inside of her where she held him tightly with her muscles. If she could only hold him there forever…he might want to stay there.

He loved her body. There was nothing angular about her. Soft and round and totally feminine, she gave herself to him completely. He drank from her as a man starved with thirst. She fed that thing in him that needed the love that she could give him, that want of a woman’s love.

Languid in the long shadows of the afternoon, he lay watching their play on the walls of her bedroom. The shadow of a branch with its leaves dancing in the breeze. Sated for the moment, his senses dulled by spent passion, he played in her hair spread across his chest.

“Are you hungry?” she asked with her head on his abdomen.

“Not yet…I will be later. It is good just to lie here.”

“Yes.” She flattened her hand upon him. His body was fit and she thought he’d been working on it. He was healthy and fine…so fine. She sighed.

“What did you do yesterday?” he asked.

“I cleaned my house and shopped for food and wine because I knew you were coming.”

“You do not eat and drink when I am not here?”

“No…life is suspended.”

He smiled.

“What did you do?”

“I worked out…spent some time in the pool. I had my car serviced and picked up Lyssa from school. I took her out for a treat, beef burgers and fries at McDonalds.”

“You don’t eat that, do you?”

“No, but she thinks it is a treat and so I take her from time to time.”

“You are a good father.”

“I do not know that is true. I try to make up for the times I am not. In the past I am away too much. Like now, but I have been home for three months. I had to come to you.”

“There are times…like now, that I think I cannot possibly let you go away from me. I know it cannot be. You have a life apart from me, a life in which I have no place.”

He looked down at her head and placed his hand on the back of her neck. “There is only you and I in this part of our lives, no one else to pull us apart for attention that must be paid. I am totally at peace with you. It would not be so if I opened the door to the rest of my life. I know it is not fair to you. I hold you to no promises…you know that. I only ask that you be here for me…let me pour myself into your vessel when I am overfull.”

She turned her face to his skin, tested the depth of his navel with her tongue and moved up, teasing his taunt nipples, kissing his neck and his mouth.

“I take everything you have to give me. You know I am yours…I cannot be otherwise.”

He spent a little over a week wrapped in this bliss before they set forth to Marseilles. It was a day of sightseeing, eating and drinking and they took a hotel for the night. The next morning they took a boat out to the Chateau d’lf. It was a fortress built in the 15^th century and later a prison.  It was the place where Edmond Dantes was kept in the Count of Monte Cristo.

They followed the tour guide down to the dungeons and then up to the more spacious cells with a window and a fireplace. This is where the wealthy prisoners were kept. They paid for the privilege and thereby paid for their incarceration.

“You are getting bored with this and sorry that we came out here.”  She frowned, making a little sad face.

“No, I am not. It is interesting.” He turned and looked out of the window and wondered how many wealthy prisoners had enjoyed this particular view. What a horrible place…prison.

The guide and the other tourists were leaving the room and still he stood looking out of the window. Christine came over and linked her arm in his. He looked down at her for a moment and then turned, sensing someone else was in the room.

“Bonjour, Blaine.”

Blaine blinked and felt his heart skip a beat. “Fadi, what do you want?”

“I want you, of course; otherwise I would not be here. You can relax. It is not your life I seek.”

“Then you have no need of me.” His hand tightened over Christine’s. She wisely kept silent.

“You are never alone, are you? Always a beautiful woman or a beautiful man.” He switched to Arabic. “I have need of you, Blaine. I understand you are no longer working for Sir Brennan. You are a free agent, is it not so?"

“I am not an agent free or otherwise.”

He laughed lightly. “I did not mean ‘free’.  Of course you would be paid, and handsomely. You are the logical choice for this little job. A French agent is being detained though no fault of his own. He is caught up in some misunderstanding. We have obtained his release, however he needs safe passage home. He ran afoul of the authorities there.”

“Why don’t you go and get him?”

“I…I cannot…I am known there.”

“The answer is no. I am on holiday and I would thank you to leave me alone.”

“I was afraid you would say that. This may change your mind. I believe you are acquainted with him…intimately.”

Blaine’s eyes widened and he took the photo from Fadi. “Gustav.”

“That is not his real name, of course. He did not know who you were.”

“He…he left on the airship.”

“Did he?” Fadi grinned. “In fact he did leave with the fools on the ship. Stayed with them all the way to North America where he was let off. Shortly afterward the ship disappeared.”

“Through the crack in the world?”

“No one knows, but he could swear they were idiots and not a threat to our world.”

Blaine handed him back the photo. He’d never regretted his tryst with the young man until now. “How…how did you know?”

“I have known about your movements since you were first seen in the company of Ali in his secret quarters.”

That angered Blaine. “You leave me alone.”

“Do not be upset with me. Your people know where I am…most of the time.”

“They are not my people.”

“Please, David, we must go! The boat will leave us.” Christine was frightened. She didn’t understand the language they spoke but the tone told her enough.

“Of course you must go,” Fadi smiled and bowed slightly to Christine. “You will think about this, Blaine. If he is caught this time…well, you know what they do…he will be mutilated.” He handed Blaine the photo again. “The number on the back is where you can reach me for the next two days. You think about it…okay?”

Blaine did not want to think about it. A black cloud suddenly wiped out the sun. He kept well away from Fadi on the boat ride back to shore and immediately wanted to leave for her house.

She got behind the wheel and pulled out of the car park. “David, you don’t have to tell me but if you wish to, I would like to know what has upset you.”

“My past will not leave me alone. I try so hard to leave it behind. It seems there is nothing…nothing I have done for which I will not be held accountable. A simple liaison with a stranger.” He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. “I did not know who he was…did not know everything he told me was a lie. It was a very strange time we spent there and he was part of it. Do you remember the airship out at Nantes?”

“The Jules Verne ship? Yes, I do”

“We were there on the Medea on our way home. I could barely walk then. I met this fantastic young man. He was doing a reading in a club. Later he found me and…”

“You slept with him.”

He looked over at her. “Yes. That is not something I would normally do…go with someone I do not know. It was all craziness.” He sighed and looked out of the window.

“We are all allowed a little craziness now and again.”

“I never told you I was gay.”

“No, you did not. Someone else told me but I did not believe them. As you have said, there is only you and I when we are together. You are bisexual, I think.”

“I suppose I am…fitting that I should be. I have never been all one thing in my entire life. I am not English, not Chinese, not straight, and not gay.”

“David, for me you are perfect.”

It took him two days to come to a decision. If it had been anyone else he wouldn’t have bothered with it. He called Fadi.

Fadi sent the information to him by special delivery. There would be no personal contact between them after he received the package.

Christine watched him struggle with it and she hated Fadi for approaching him. Their time was up and it was too soon. He was torn and she could see it in his eyes when he made love to her. She drove him to the airport, not the private strip where he’d landed, but to Marseilles. He left her quickly, not wanting to draw it out. It was painful enough. He’d left all of his identification with her. Anything that would identify him as David Blaine. The door to the other part of his life had been forced open. No…no, she did not want to be a part of it.

Chapter 2

As Alain Manet he flew into Baghdad. He had with him a good deal of money, a laptop, a cell phone and press credentials for an obscure French publication. He’d been given a copy of the publication so he could familiarize himself with the people he worked for and the type of article he might be writing. He was taken to a hotel frequented by the media. There he met up with his contact and a legitimate journalist from America.  The American was also interested in Kurdistan but was hesitant to travel there alone. They picked up another reporter from Russia.

Within twenty-four hours after landing Blaine had three companions plus a car, driver and an armed escort.  He’d already questioned his sanity for taking on this job but he hadn’t closely examined his reasons. Julian/Gustav intrigued him.

Julian Bladen (Gustav) was detained and held for ransom. The ransom had been paid and then they let him go only to be picked up again for an entirely different reason. He was back in their hands again. Blaine’s job was to bribe someone to look the other way while he walked away with Julian. It sounded simple enough but these things never were.

They were stopped numerous times along the road north. Each time they had to get out of the vehicle and show their ID.

“I’ve never heard of this publication,” the American said, looking at the cover of the magazine Blaine had stuck in his camera bag.

“It is not widely read.”

“Why do you work for ‘em? Guy like you ought to get on with someone else.”

“A guy like me?”

“You’re a smart guy.”

“You think so, eh?” Blaine laughed a little.

“Hard to imagine a rag like this would be interested in the war in Kurdistan.”

War in Kurdistan rang in Blaine’s ears. He was headed for a war zone. How ridiculous that he should be here when he could be with Christine. He tried to blink away that look of fear in her eyes when he kissed her goodbye. Well, if it looked to be too dangerous he’d hang with the other journalists and get out with them. Appealing as Julian was, he wasn’t worth dying for.

“You married?” the American asked.

“No…have been.”

“Yeah, me too. This life and marriage don’t mix. I got two kids in middle school.”

“Middle school…what is that?”

“Somewhere between elementary school and high school. You got kids?”

“I have a daughter who is 5 and a son 16 months.”

“Yeah…it’s tough being away but you gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Yes,” Blaine said and thought he didn’t have to do this. He ran a hand over his face. It was madness. Fadi could have sent someone else. This was probably his job anyway…one he’d probably mucked up. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. What a fool he’d been to agree to this. Fadi used him just as Sir Brennan had used him. He didn’t know Julian Bladen at all except sexually. One night and here he was risking his life to get the bastard out of Kurdistan.

They reached the last checkpoint before passing into land controlled by the Kurds. Blaine was armed and he wondered if he would be relieved of his weapon once over. He felt very much alone. The man in the front seat, his contact, said very little to him. He didn’t know if the man had his back or not. He trusted no one.  Their armed guard left them at this point.

When they reached their destination Blaine got out of the vehicle and followed the lead of the other journalists. Questions of where they might be housed, who they might be allowed to interview, where they might find something to eat. He quietly listened.

He was given a room to share with the Russian. He didn’t speak Russian but the journalist spoke French. An inner instinct led him to be wary of the man. He gave up little information about himself, only what could be corroborated by the publication. Alain Manet was a real person who was currently missing. Blaine had no doubt once he had his man out of Kurdistan and back in France, the real Manet would appear and probably a bit richer for his little holiday.

They were invited to dine with the leader of this little outpost. While casually eating his food Blaine said, “I think you had one of my countrymen here for awhile. Is he still here?  If he is I’d like to speak with him.”

The leader looked over at Blaine. “I think you are mistaken.”

“I could be mistaken. Perhaps it was not here at this place. I heard there was a kidnapping and ransom paid and then he disappeared.”

“I do not know of it. But then it is not unusual for a man to disappear in this land. A man is mourned but we are at war. Such things happen.”

“To a Frenchman?” the American spoke up. “What was he, a journalist?”

“Not sure what field he was in.” Blaine shrugged. “Word goes around, especially when large sums of money are involved.”

“If he was kidnapped he is probably dead.” The Russian spoke for the first time. “It happens sometimes.”

“You are not suggesting we have killed a hostage.” The leader was upset or faking it.

“Did you have a hostage?” Blaine asked.

“We have no hostage here. We are not in the business of kidnapping Frenchmen.”

“Are you looking for this man?” the Russian asked.

“I am not looking for him. My publisher asked me to see if he was still here…that is all. I do not know what his connection with this man is or if he has a connection. All I know is a ransom was paid for his release and he has not returned home.” He put up his hands. “I am beginning to wish I had not asked.”

“Might be a good story, though,” the American said.

“I agree it would be if he might be found. That is not why I am here.”

“Why are you here?” the Russian asked.

Blaine sipped his sweet coffee and set the cup down. He looked the Russian in the eye. “I would assume for the same reason you are…to report on how the war is progressing for the Kurds.”

Blaine thought the Russian was no more a journalist than he was. He listened as the American asked questions like a journalist and got polite replies. He asked one himself in the same line of questioning and got a reply. At lease perhaps he’d established himself. The Russian hadn’t asked anything. Blaine turned on his little recording device and laid it on the table in plain sight so the leader knew he was being recorded.

Later Blaine and the American walked to the edge of the outpost. “It’s not a real war…more of a continuance of the fight for borders and autonomy. The Turks hate them and the Iraqi’s don’t want them. What you see here, men walking around with automatic weapons, is not Kurdistan.”

“I was given to understand it was a civilized place,” Blaine said.

“Farther into the country you’ll see that.”

“You have been here before.”

“I was here during the Gulf War and during the Iraq War. Are you really looking for your Frenchman?”

“Well, I would like to know what happened to him.”

“The fella here probably has no idea. There was a guerrilla group here, PPK they called themselves. They caught the leader…effectively cutting off the head and things quieted down. I don’t know, of course, but that might be a group to check out for your man.”

Blaine sighed, “Like looking for that needle in the haystack. I do not know if I want to get mixed up in a guerrilla organization.”

“Who did your people pay the money to?”

“I do not know who paid it. Whoever wants him back. It was paid to an official in Erbil.”

“Pardon me for speaking plainly. You and I both know you’re not here to interview military leaders. I don’t know who you are or who you’re working for and I don’t want to know, okay.” The American stopped and offered Blaine a cigarette. “I been around long enough to know when I’m speaking to a news hound.  It’s a good cover and it may get you what you want…just be careful. This ain’t Paris, my friend.”

“I am well aware of where I am. Do you know the Russian?”

“Ivan? Yeah, I know him from Baghdad. He’s what he says he is and more than that I don’t know.”

“I need to get to Erbil. Thank you for not blowing my cover.”

“Wouldn’t net me anything to do something like that. There are a lot of operatives in this part of the world.”

“Yes…I know.”

“You headin’ out tomorrow?”

“If I can get transportation.”

The American’s eyes squinted over the cigarette smoke. “Take that Iraqi with you…the one you brought from Baghdad.”

Blaine grinned and walked away from him.

Chapter 3

Blaine knew the size of the city. He’d done his homework but riding through the narrow, haphazard streets in the back of a jeep did little to boost his confidence . He was looking for a needle in this maze. He did not speak Kurdish but his Iraqi, whose name was George, did speak a little of the dialect.

“I’m going to have to depend on you to get me where I need to be.” He looked George in the eyes. “Do not cross me…or you will pay dearly.”

“I will not cross you, Monsieur Manet. If I fail it is not only you who will pay me a visit.”

“I just wanted to make sure we understood each other. My name is Alain. You can call me that.”

The driver dropped them off in front of a hotel and Blaine checked them in. Once in his room he checked the lining of his jacket to make sure the money was still there. He sent George to find out where the official’s office might be that received the money for Julian’s release. While he was gone he sat down with the lap top and typed out a bogus article about his experiences so far and made sure he let whoever would read it know he was in Erbil. He sent it by email to the site he’d been instructed to use.

He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. He didn’t even know whom he was working for. Fadi…but Fadi was a whore. He’d work for anybody for the right price.  Again he wished he hadn’t come. He didn’t have a good feeling about this job. It was the same thing, wasn’t it? He was too impulsive…reckless. He knew his faults but couldn’t always control them. That damn Julian…if that was his name…he’d fascinated him in Nantes but here in this place…

A knock on his door. “George, come in. What have you found out?”

“I have the address for his office. He is a senior aide for the treasury.”

Blaine chuckled, “Well, of course he is. Can we get in to see him today?”

“You have to make appointment. I…I made it for tomorrow morning at 9:00. I hope that is all right.”

“Excellent, George. Let us find a place to eat and soon end this day.”

“You are weary, I think, of this place,” George observed on the way down the staircase.

“When I think of where I could be…yes.”

At nine the next morning they were at the official office of the Treasury. Blaine had the money stashed in the lining of his camera bag. He’d taken a few pictures in case anyone wanted to see. The bag was searched but given back to him intact.

The little man had a proud mustache. “Good morning, Monsieur Manet. Please to sit down.”

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“What can I help you with?”

“I have been asked to inquire about Julian Bladen. I understand a good deal of money was paid for his release but he has not returned home.”

“Monsieur Bladen was indeed released from our custody.”

“Do you know where he is? Is he alive?”

“Oh, he is very much alive, but for how long I do not know. He awaits his trial.”

“Trial?”

“He is incarcerated, Monsieur Manet.”

“On what charge do you hold him?”

“Buggery, a very distasteful thing. He took a boy.”

Blaine stared at the man for a moment and then looked at the corner of his desk. “Is it possible I might see him?”

“I am sure that can be arranged.”

“Is it possible to have him released?”

“Well…I do not know. These charges are serious, you know.”

Blaine looked up at him. “How much do you think it would cost to have him released if such a thing were possible?”

“I do not know if it is possible. I will have to talk to the minister of justice.”

“While you are having your talk with the minister, might I see him, please?”

He was taken to the jail where Julian was being held. A more disgusting place he’d never seen. The smell nearly made him vomit. The door was opened to a small cell. A window high on the wall gave enough light to see Julian sitting on his cot with his knees up, barefoot and wearing the same clothes he’d worn when he was picked up some three weeks prior. He didn’t look up when the door was opened.

“You have a visitor. Stand up.”

“Piss off.”

He hardly resembled the beautiful young man he’d made love with in Nantes.

“You’d better stand up,” Blaine said.

He looked up and stared a Blaine for a moment and recognition dawned. “I know you.”

“Yes, you do. I have come to get you out of here.”

“You…how…how are you here…Blaine?”

“My name is Alain Manet.”

“In Nantes…we met in Nantes…Steampunk.” He smiled and stood up. “I would kiss you but I am filthy.”

“Are you guilty of the charges?”

“Of course I am, but it was consensual. Stupid, I know…I should have left immediately. Alain…well, a name is a name.”

“Like Gustav. Everything you told me was a lie. I wonder why I am here.”

“Not everything. I was a student before I was recruited. Nothing I said about you was a lie. I didn’t know you or who you worked for or if you worked at all. I had to play my part.”

“You played it very well. What happened to the airship?”

“It disappeared.”

“How?”

“I don’t think I know.”

“How many people were on that ship?”

“Um, seventy something. Do you think I destroyed it?”

“I do not know what to think. You got off.”

“Yes…I did.” He stood up. “Am I to go with you now?”

“No, not until the minister of justice has a go.”

“Oh, who would think I am so valuable?”

“I wonder that myself.”

“I think you are upset with me?”

“I am not anything.” Blaine knocked on the door to be let out. “I will be back after the business is taken care of.”

“I am amazed at you, Alain. You were crippled when we met…I had to carry you.”

“I am not crippled now…miracle cure.” He smiled slightly and stepped through the door.

“Where to now, Alain?” George asked.

“Back to the hotel. I need to bathe.”

“Ah, it is a pig’s wallow in there.”

His hair was still wet from his bath when he received a message pushed under the door of  his hotel room.

Julian would be released into his custody upon the payment of 100,000 Euros.  He dressed quickly and rounded up George.

Back at the treasury he paid the amount requested and took a taxi to the prison. Julian was brought out by a guard. “I think you are a man of miracles,” Julian said, stuffing his things in his pockets.

“That remains to be seen. I have 24 hours to get you out of the country and you are not to leave my sight.”

“I don’t mind being in your sight.”

“We have a flight out in the morning”

“To where?”

“Paris.”

“Ah…Paris.”

Blaine took him to the hotel so he could clean up. “I don’t know what happened to my luggage. I had a bag.”

“Probably sold in the market place.”  Blaine sent his clothes to the laundry. He didn’t entirely trust Julian.

“I could wear something of yours.”

“You are taller…you will not need clothes until tomorrow morning.”

Chapter 4

“You’re different from the way you were in Nantes. You were so fragile and…lovely.” Julian slipped the hotel robe on and loosely tied it around his waist. He looked at Blaine and smiled.

“I am not quite so fragile anymore.  Why are you here in Kurdistan?”

“Ah, do you really want me to tell you? I don’t think you do. I was working. You surprise me…you really do. I had no idea you were in the business.”

“I am not…actually.”

“What is it you do…do?”

“I design gardens for the National Trust.”

Julian laughed. “You are beautiful!”

“Do you work for Fadi?”

“He whose name must not be mentioned. I work for no one…everyone. Maybe I don’t work at all.”

“That is what I thought. Someone wants you out of here alive. You are an expensive package.”

“I’m not worth it…whatever they paid for my freedom. Although I can think of better ways to die. Do you ever think of death?”

“I cannot say that I do. I have too much to live for.”

“How old are you, Alain?”

“Thirty-five.”

“I will never reach that age. But why are we talking of death? I’ve just been freed by a very sexy man.” He moved over behind Blaine’s chair and put his hands in his hair, on his face and tilted it up and kissed him. “I remember you.”

Blaine caught his hand. “Do not stand behind me.”

“You don’t trust me. Why?” He came around him and went on his knees.

“Call it instinct.” Blaine looked into his eyes.

Julian smiled slowly and kissed him again. “You are right not to trust me. But for now…now…just for now come to bed with me.”

Blaine felt his resolve melting away with desire. Julian’s hands were on his thighs. Yes…he would but on his terms. He was no longer the fragile flower he once was.

“I could love you, Alain. So easily…I could love you.”

“Just for now,” Blaine replied.

Later Blaine was up and dressed. They had a meal in the room and he spoke with George about the plane tickets. George would be returning to Baghdad.

“Why Paris?” Julian asked him.

“That is where I was told to take you. And then I am done with you.”

“How can you be done with me after…I’ll want to see you again.”

“That will not be possible. We are different people, Julian.”

“Are we so different…I wonder.”

“I do not want to become you. I have a life away from this…this intrigue, deception and life of lies. I could not live this way.”

Julian took a breath and looked away from him. He was still on the bed, half covered. “You should get out now…go…and leave me here.”

“I cannot do that. I accepted a contract and I will see it to the end.” Blaine picked up a coffee cup and refilled it. “Why don’t you want to go back to Paris?”

“Did I say that? It doesn’t matter.”

Blaine lit a cigarette and sat on the arm of a chair. “Had it been anyone else I would not have come. Fadi knew it…he approached me because he knew I had been with you in Nantes. It disturbs me to think I am being watched."

“Why does he watch you?”

“I do not know. I think he waits for an opportunity such as this to use me. I do not like being used…by anyone.”

“He is only a player, a pawn like me.”

“You sell yourself.”

“You make me sound like a prostitute.”

“Aren’t you?”

“You do not know me, Alain.”

“No, and I do not think I wish to.”

Julian rolled out of the bed and approached him. He took the cigarette from his hand, took a drag off it and handed it back.

“Cover yourself. Put on the robe.”

“Why?”

“You distract me.”

Julian laughed. “I think you like being distracted.”

Blaine smiled a little. “I do…but this is not the time nor the place for more distractions. Tomorrow morning at 7:00 we are to fly."

“Then we have tonight to be distracted.”

“Go to bed…go to sleep.”

“Not without you.”

“Enough. Leave me alone.”

Julian finally went to sleep and Blaine settled on the little loveseat with his gun. He’d set the dinner tray out in the hallway earlier after the maid brought Julian’s laundered clothes back. He looked at him over in the bed and realized his fascination for Julian Bladen was over. Yes, he was a good lover but he didn’t trust him and he didn’t like him. He was a younger version of Fadi.  The sooner he was in Paris, the better.

Along about three in the morning he heard a sound. At first he thought someone had come for the tray. He rose and quickly moved behind the door as it began to open silently and slowly. Someone had used a pass key.

Chapter 5

In a flash he saw a large man, western dress, gun drawn.  He slammed him upside the head with the butt of his gun and he went down. Blaine kicked the gun away from his hand and looked over him. He flicked on the light and saw a trickle of blood down the side of his face…Ivan.

Julian was out of the bed and against the far wall. Blaine picked up Ivan’s gun and stuck it in his belt. He turned the gun on Julian. “Why is he here?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Not good enough.”

“He would have killed you.”

“Why?”

“For me. For…for what I know.”

“Get dressed…now!” Blaine picked up the hotel phone and rang George’s room.

“Are you going to shoot me, Alain?”

“I said get dressed. We are leaving.”

George arrived and Blaine had him tie up the intruder with cords from the draperies.  He was coming to now and let out a stream of Russian. Blaine stuffed a washcloth in his mouth. He gave George the other gun and told him if Julian tried anything to shoot him.

In the taxi on the way to the airport Julian turned to Blaine. “I don’t understand you.”

“You do not have to understand me.”

“What is it you think I am going to do?”

“I do not know,” Blaine said, making eye contact. “I trust no one.”

“How sad for you.”

Blaine had to ditch the gun outside the airport and until the plane left at 7:00 he would have to be on his toes. He fully expected Julian to bolt.  He had two hours to guard him. George would be with him until 6:30 and he would have to go to his own gate.

It was a tense time and all the while Julian kept smiling when he looked in his face. It unnerved him but that was what Julian intended. He smiled back. He could never be like that…without heart and soul…without allegiance to anyone. Julian’s words came back to him. Were they so different? Was he not taking Fadi’s money? Hadn’t he been Sir Brennan’s pawn? Well, no more. He had a heart and soul and right now it yearned for the sound of his childrens' voices, for Christine’s arms, for Billy.

George left for his flight and Julian lay his head back on the seat in the waiting area. He stared at the ceiling for awhile and then looked at Blaine.

“You can relax. I’ll go to Paris with you.”

Blaine said nothing. A few minutes later he picked up his bags and adjusted them on his shoulders. He took Julian by the arm and made damn sure he got on the plane. Once they reached Orly he didn’t care where he went. His instructions were to get him to Paris.

“Do you want to know why Ivan was looking for me? You led him to me, you know.”

“I do not want to know. The less I know about this business, the better off I am.”

“It all had to do with a secret arms deal with the PPK.”

“You were working with Ivan?”

“No, he thought he’d uncovered something. He did but it doesn’t matter now.  The government in Kurdistan was tipped off and I was picked up.”

“Who supplies the weapons to the PPK?”

“The Russian underground. I was the go-between. I carried the money to Russia. The weapons have not arrived.  Do you wonder why I’m telling you this?”

“Because you are a bloody son-of-a-bitch.”

“Ha, ha! Alain, you are such a darling. They will send you to Russia.”

“Not me. ‘THEY’ will not be sending me anywhere.”

“I had to go back to Kurdistan to sympathize with them over their loss. They trust me…can you imagine it?”

“What happened to the money?”

“Think of it, Alain. You and I on some south sea island. Hidden away where no one can find us. Nothing to do but make love and drink all day. I could do that with you.”

“You hold onto that thought, Julian, for it is all of me you will ever have.”

“When we land…don’t come near me. Let me go on ahead of you. It is better that we are not seen together.”

Blaine looked over at him. “They know I went to retrieve  you.”

“Love, you do not know who THEY are."

“We are not working for the same people…are we?”

He didn’t want to know and when the plane landed he let him go. Blaine was near last getting off the plane. He went through the airport and took  the train into Paris. All the adrenalin was drained from him that had kept him going. He had not slept in over 36 hours.  He got a cab to the publisher’s office and there off loaded all of Alain Manet’s identification, his lap top and his cell phone. The girl at the front desk sat with her mouth open while he lay it all out on her desk.

Back in the cab he directed it to a small hotel where he paid cash for a room and he crashed for sixteen hours. When he came to himself he showered, dressed and called Christine.

“David, oh, David! Where are you?”

“I am in Paris and I need you to come and get me. Bring that little black bag with you.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I am now.” He gave her directions to the hotel and went out to find a meal.

It was late afternoon when she arrived. She clutched at him, trying to determine if he was really all right.

“I’ve been so worried about you…no word from you…not a word.”

“I could not contact you, Christine. It is all over now.” He kissed her deeply and waltzed her into the room.

The next morning they left for her little house where he spent two days trying to come to a decision about something. She could see he was in a quandary but didn’t ask.

“I…I have to leave. Go back to England. There is something I must do.” He called his pilot and arranged the flight.

Before he left he received a package in the same manner he had before.  It was a check for his services. He turned it over and endorsed it over to Christine. “Buy yourself a new car or whatever you might need.”

“I cannot accept this, David. It is a fortune.”

“It will buy a very nice vehicle and you can drive me all over France the next time I come.”

“But…this was wages for the job you did.”

“I do not want it.” He kissed her again as his plane was waiting. “I love you, Christine.”

She hugged him tightly and kissed both his cheeks and his lips. “Do not stay away so long.”

“I promise I will not.”

Blaine flew into London and hired a car.

It was a cool misty morning drive out into the country. He hadn’t called ahead to let him know he was coming. He hadn’t dressed other than his jeans and leather jacket.

“Good morning, Mr. Blaine.”

“G’morning, Clive. Is he in?”

“Just had a pot of coffee brought in, Sir.”

Blaine opened the door. “Sir Brennan, have you a moment?”

“I’m not sure. Have you come to assassinate me or is this a social call?” Sir Brennan stood behind his desk.

“I have something to tell you,” Blaine said and closed the door behind him.

ON TO SEEDS OF FEAR

ON TO ANOTHER INTERVIEW WITH DAVID BLAINE

BACK TO EXIT THE PAWN

BACK TO VICTIM OF LOVE