The Increment: A Novel - By David Ignatius Page 0,114
Turkmen carpet. Jeremy reported that she was still awake, and alone.
Harry rapped on Jackie’s door. He was worried about her. She was the team leader. The lives of three other people were about to be entrusted to her. Everything depended on her judgment and reliability. Could she stand up under pressure? Harry didn’t know. But what he had seen of her sporting with Adrian made him nervous. He didn’t understand her. He knocked a second time.
Jackie opened the door meekly, her head bowed and a black scarf covering not simply her hair but most of her face. She looked away modestly.
“Ha!” she said, suddenly pulling the scarf away and letting it drop to the floor. “Fooled you, didn’t I?”
“Not even for a second,” said Harry. “Can I come in? I want to talk.”
“Sure. I wasn’t asleep.” She opened the door. “Be my guest.”
With the scarf gone, she was dressed in a tight black turtleneck and jeans that hugged her bottom. On her feet were fluffy pink slippers.
“Nervous about tomorrow?” asked Harry.
“Naw. I take a pill for that. I was going over the ops plan.” She nodded toward a heap of papers spread on her bed, under a reading light.
She stood motionless, as if unsure where they should sit, or what it was that Harry had really come for. She was trying to read him, just as he was trying to read her. Was he another lonely, hungry man, looking for a place to rest his head and stick his cock?
She tilted her head, appraising him. Her cheeks were aglow, even in the low light. She began walking toward the bed, as if that were the right place to talk. In the same moment, Harry moved toward the couch deep in shadow at the far end of the room. He took a seat there; she followed.
All the ambiguity of the woman, hard and soft, was captured in her room. An automatic rifle was leaning against the bedpost. She had disassembled and cleaned it earlier that evening, and the oil still glowed where she had rubbed it against the barrel and the stock. Her workout clothes were in a heap at the far side of room, where she had left them after a round of weight lifting with the boys in the gym earlier in the evening. Her Muslim pilgrim dress was laid out for tomorrow. Open on the bedside table was the book she was evidently reading. White Teeth, by Zadie Smith.
Harry wasn’t sure how to start the conversation, but she made it easy for him.
“You’re worrying about me and Adrian, aren’t you? I can see that look in your eye. It’s not come hither, but go thither.”
“Yup,” said Harry. “You got it.”
“You’re worried that it will compromise the mission, the boss shagging the team leader.”
“I wouldn’t have put it so crudely, but yeah, that’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
“Well, don’t. I have it under control. I’m not a lovesick damsel. I’m not a dick wipe. This is what women do now. They have sex and don’t worry about it.”
Harry looked at her. She was leaning forward on her haunches, her bottom barely touching the couch. The passion was impressive, but not entirely reassuring. Harry shook his head. He was puzzled.
“I don’t get you,” he said. “I know why Adrian wants to sleep with you, but I don’t see it from your end.”
“Sex is power, Mr. Fellows. I like to be powerful.”
“Call me Harry.”
“Okay, Harry. I’ll tell you a secret. Just you and me. How’s that?” She winked.
“What’s the secret?” Harry knew he was being pulled into her vortex, but he couldn’t resist.
“I get off having power over men. Men like to be in control. And you know what, Harry? So do women.”
“But life isn’t a bedroom, Jackie. You’ll have other people’s lives in your hands tomorrow. I need to know that I can trust you.”
Jackie paused. She licked her lips like a cat, reflexively, till they were glistening. She wasn’t trying to be sexy, but she couldn’t help it.
“Have you ever had an affair, Harry?” she asked.
“None of your business.”
“Sure it is. You’re asking about my sex life. Why can’t I ask about yours?”
She had a point.
“Yes,” said Harry. “I’ve had an affair. Several, as a matter of fact. I’m not proud of it, but it’s a fact.”
“And what did you like about it? Having an affair, I mean.”
“The sex.”
“Precisely. And did it make you a worse intelligence officer? Did it harm your performance?”