London Twist: A Delilah Novella by Barry Eisler Page A

each filled with a semitransparent golden mixture. When the man had departed, Kent raised his glass. “To your success.”
    They touched glasses and drank. Kent was looking at her expectantly. “Well? Are you going to throw it in my face?”
    “No, it’s actually quite delicious. What is it?”
    “It’s called an Afterglow. Gin, absinthe, Amaro, ginger, lemon, orange, and nutmeg. All the major food groups. Had one at the Flatiron Lounge in New York and told Niall all about it. I like his interpretation better—less sweet, and served up, too. Packs a punch, though. Be careful.”
    Afterglow. Well, at least he had the class, and the sense, not to order Sex on the Beach or something like that. And it was good.
    She briefed him on her progress with Fatima. He was as curious about what had happened in front of Momtaz as she was.
    “They felt like bodyguards,” Delilah said, “not Samaritans. And it didn’t feel like just a job, either. They hit those two guys like guard dogs off the leash, like they were enraged someone was threatening their master. What’s throwing me is, the way Fatima played it—as though she didn’t know they were there.”
    “Maybe she didn’t. Maybe they don’t shadow her that closely. Or maybe they were shadowing you.”
    She tamped down her irritation. “I guarantee you, Kent, no one was shadowing me. Not last night, not now. They were on her. Whether she knew it or not.”
    “So she has people on her, but she’s not aware of it. Or not fully aware, anyway.”
    “And how do you interpret that?”
    He blew out a long breath. “She’s… more important to someone than that someone wants her to know?”
    “Or someone doesn’t trust her the way she might want.”
    “You think they’re monitoring her rather than protecting her?”
    “I don’t know. She certainly seemed… I don’t know. Surprised, certainly, when the second set of guys showed up. But also discomfited as much as relieved. I think she suspected they were watching her, but wasn’t really sure. Maybe she’s aware of a security detail, or whatever it is, but also in denial?”
    Kent nodded. “I’ll buy that.”
    “Do you have access to police reports? I think it’s likely one will be filed—one of those guys, I don’t think he walked away.”
    “I can certainly do some checking.”
    “And let me know what you find.”
    “That was my implication. In the meantime, now you know Fatima’s being watched. I told you, you need to be careful.”
    She looked at him.
    “Of course,” he added, “you already know that. Anyway, what’s your next move?”
    “We talked about getting out of London together.”
    “A getaway? You have made fast progress.”
    She didn’t respond. She just looked at him evenly, wondering whether it was worth pointing out how ridiculous it was that he even thought he was in a position to evaluate the success or failure of her op.
    He must have picked up on what she was thinking, because he said, “I’m impressed, that’s all. Remember, this is someone who immediately saw through the two previous operatives we sent against her.”
    She realized he meant nothing by it, and knew she should try to be more forgiving. But she was so damned sick of men judging her. Whether the judgment involved a compliment or a complaint wasn’t the point. The point was their belief in their right to judge in the first place.
    “Anyway. She mentioned if she left town, she’d have to take her laptop. Isn’t that what you want?”
    “Of course it is. But look, I didn’t want to mention it earlier because I’m trying to respect all the need-to-know nonsense, but hypothetically, don’t you think we already would have black-bagged her flat? Her laptop is Firevault encrypted. It was useless.”
    “Then maybe I can access it when she’s already logged in. Or find a way to record her inputting a password. A hotel would obviously create opportunities I’m not going to have if we just keep meeting for coffee