fifteen minutes before, but he didn’t budge. His favorite plane, the Piaggio, was scheduled to depart in just a little while. Jaro watched through binoculars how the pilots and Mr. Shah were loading some crates, getting ready for departure. He focused entirely on the plane’s beautiful shape, its flickering lights in the dark twilight, and the sweet sound of its idling engines, completely missing the man standing on the side of the tarmac, watching closely the very same aircraft.
A little while later, he saw the Piaggio taxi for a minute, then take off elegantly, quickly disappearing into the dark sky, strobes marking its ascending path. A minute later, it exploded in a blaze of fire, sending pieces of burning debris in all directions, like fireworks.
The man on the side of the tarmac took a couple of pictures, then disappeared, unseen and unheard. Jaro’s eyes were not seeing clearly, blurred by tears.
...97
...Monday October 17, 5:08PM Local Time (UTC+1:00 hours)
...Hotel Arts Barcelona - Espiritu Del Mar Restaurant
...Barcelona, Spain
She watched discreetly as the waiter, dressed in black pants, a white shirt and vest, and white gloves, brought the appetizer tray and started placing the small plates in front of his guest, a few tables in front of her own. The luminous atmosphere of the restaurant, its white furniture complimenting the sparkling table linens, brought forward by an entire wall of glass letting in the gentle October light, made Espiritu Del Mar a dining place of choice for the hotel’s guests. The doors to the patio were open, letting in a gentle breeze, bringing in salty Mediterranean air to spice up the smell of white truffle sauce and Raviolis de Langosta.
“Will there be anything else, sir?” The waiter chose to phrase his question in English. His guest, one of only two at that early dinnertime, was definitely not Spanish. His dark blue turban suggested he was an Indian Sikh.
“No, I am fine for the moment,” the guest responded.
“How about something to drink? Iced tea, sparkling water? A glass of wine?”
“Pellegrino is fine, thank you.”
“Right away, sir.”
The waiter brought the bottled water and a chilled glass. He opened the bottle in front of his guest and filled his glass three quarters.
“Thank you,” the guest said.
The waiter bowed his head in acknowledgement and stepped away, leaving the Indian to enjoy his food. He didn’t go far though, moving to attend to her, the only other dinner guest for the early hour.
She was a stunning young woman, very aware of the effect she had on men. She had waves of undulating, shiny, ash brown hair, and she struggled to keep strands away from her beautiful face. Her delicate fingers tucked rebel strands behind her left ear, and she tilted her head slightly every time she did that.
She was dressed in an evening gown, shimmering burgundy silk falling heavy and enhancing every curve of her body. The gown revealed her perfect back generously and showed cleavage that stopped only an inch above her waistline. Expensive jewelry completed her attire, and her diamond-encrusted envelope purse matched the dark burgundy shade of her dress and the leather of her high-heeled Louboutins.
She didn’t need the waiter’s services; she waved him away. He disappeared behind the kitchen door, but she didn’t pay much attention to that. Instead, she focused on the turban-wearing man having dinner a few tables away, seated with his back towards her.
She checked her surroundings quickly; there was no one else in the cozy dining room. She stood, and the generous thigh slit of her gown revealed her perfect leg, exposed within millimeters of where her panty line should have been. She grabbed her purse and cell and walked towards the ladies room, choosing to pass right by the Indian’s table. She texted as she walked, apparently paying little attention to her surroundings.
She bumped into the Indian’s right shoulder, causing him to drop his fork on the floor, as her cell took the same route.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she apologized, touching the man’s shoulder with feather light fingers and slightly flexing her left knee. The thigh slit in her gown opened a little, revealing more.
“It’s OK,” the man said, the flashes of anger sparkling in his eyes disappearing as he took in the beauty of the woman in front of him.
He pushed his chair from the table and leaned down to pick her phone up off the floor. As he started leaning, the woman flexed her knee a little more, right when the man’s eyes were inches away