Siro by David Ignatius (short books to read txt) 📕

eventually kiss her sweetly on the cheek. As he held her, he sang a bedtime song in a thin, inebriated voice. She lay there in his arms for a long while, until they heard the bartender say: “Last call.” Anna sat up like a fluffy cat and looked at Taylor with her big blue-green eyes.

“I’m not ready yet,” she said. “But I’m getting ready.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” asked Taylor a half hour later at the door of her motel room.

“Nothing,” she said. “Got a suggestion?”

“I have a surprise.”

“What’s that?”

“How do you feel about making love on the grass?”

“Good night,” said Anna, closing the door.

“I’ll pick you up at ten,” called out Taylor. She didn’t answer, and Taylor couldn’t see the smile on her face.

Taylor arrived at ten-thirty in the white Karpetland van. He had been shopping. A new cassette deck was playing the sound of a Bach cantata; in the back of the truck was a hamper containing a loaf of French bread, some ham and salami, several varieties of cheese, a jar of mustard and a bottle of white Burgundy. And a blanket.

Anna was waiting outside the motel, wearing a sundress—looking as ripe and ready as a bud that has been waiting all year to bloom. She greeted Taylor with a kiss.

“Hop up,” he said. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“Where are we going, rug man?”

“To a secret hideaway, where even serious career women can do exactly what they want.”

They drove to the Beltway, crossed the Potomac, and then headed west along Route 66, toward Winchester. The landscape was pure Virginia: low scrub brush along the side of the road, giving way to lush green fields and tall trees and, in the distance, the rolling hills of the Blue Ridge. They passed grand horse farms and dark hollows dotted with rickety shacks. Taylor seemed to know where he was going, and Anna no longer cared to ask. She put her feet up on the dashboard, let the wind blow through her hair, and hummed along with the Bach tape.

Just past a little town called Marshall, Taylor turned off the main highway and headed up a two-lane road. That became a one-lane road, and then, heading up much more steeply, a dirt road overgrown on the sides with wild shrubs and vines. The panel truck pushed through the brush like a stalker in an unmarked jungle. At the crest of the hill, Taylor stopped the truck. The place was so dense with overhanging trees and brush that it was almost dark.

“Where are we?” asked Anna.

“You’ll see.”

Taylor took the picnic basket and the blanket in one hand and Anna in the other. He led her into the brush, pushing it back as he went. After a few dozen yards they came to a chain-link fence topped with angry-looking barbed wire.

“Now what do we do?” she asked.

“You can climb a fence, can’t you?”

“Sure. But not one with barbed wire.”

“No problem,” said Taylor. He reached into the picnic basket and removed a pair of wire cutters. Holding them in one hand, he climbed to the top of the chain-link and began clipping.

“You can’t do that!”

“Watch me,” he said, and he snipped away until a large hole was opened in the wire. Then he slid back down, picked up the picnic basket in one hand and climbed back up and over the fence. “Your turn,” he said.

Anna was lithe and agile, and once she realized that the fence was to be climbed, she was over the top almost as fast as Taylor. The skirt of her dress got caught on a protruding wire as she was descending, and Taylor climbed up a few feet and unhooked her. Then he held her by the waist and gently lowered her. As her feet touched the ground, he felt her breasts against his chest and the beat of her heart. They were both breathing heavily from climbing, and when Taylor held her close, he became aroused.

“Where are you taking me?” Anna whispered.

“Forbidden territory,” answered Taylor. He took her hand again and led her up a low hill. The brush was still thick, so she couldn’t see what was ahead until they came over the crest, and then, suddenly, she saw why Taylor had brought her there. Stretching out below was a small green valley, hidden away from the surrounding countryside. And on the downward slope stood a farmhouse whose windows and doors were boarded up.

“Who lives there?” asked Anna.

“Nobody, except us.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a safe house. The agency owns it. They keep dozens of these places on ice for defectors, but nobody ever uses them. I thought we’d just appropriate it for a little while.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Anna. She moved quickly through the tall grass, breaking into a run when the downward pull of the slope took hold. Taylor followed her, blanket and picnic basket in hand. When they reached the farmhouse they were both out of breath. On the other side of the house was a small creek that flowed over a waterfall. Taylor laid the blanket down on the lush grass just above the waterfall, so that the sound of rushing water was in their ears.

“Come to bed,” said Taylor. He had already taken off his shoes and socks.

Anna looked at him, sitting atop his blanket amid the expanse of green grass, the look of desire on his face mirroring the lush wildness of the place. “Should we really do this?” she asked.

“Yes. Of course we should.”

“What comes next?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“But we have to work with each other.”

“So what. I work with people I hate. Why can’t I work with someone I love?”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? Stop fighting so hard. Let go, for once.” He stood up and walked a few steps toward her, feeling the moist earth and the blades of grass between his toes. “Come to me,” he said.

“I haven’t made love in so long.”

“Come to me,” he said again.

Anna slowly walked toward him, kicking off her shoes